Chicago gets a bad rap. Admittedly, they were pretentious, assigning Roman numerals to their albums rather than names. And, they were longwinded, fond of double-LP's filled with side-long suites aspiring to art. But show me a rock group in the 1970's that wasn't pretentious or longwinded! These days, Chicago are too "rock" for oldies radio, too "pop" for classic rock stations, and just too old for most everybody else. In their prime, however, Chicago was a spectacle worth seeing. The brainchild of saxophonist Walter Parazaider and producer James William Guercio, the group featured a traditional rock band (piano, guitar, and bass anchored by Danny Seraphine's amazing stickwork), three talented singer/songwriters (Robert Lamm, Terry Kath, and Peter Cetera), and an accomplished horn section. Together, they built great pop songs upon a jazz-inflected rock foundation.

Chicago (the rock group) was formed in Chicago (the windy city) in the late 60's, coalescing around Parazaider's vision of a rock band with horns. They were known by several names (including the Big Thing) but settled on Chicago Transit Authority, naming themselves in honor of the buses and trains that moved them around town as scuttling musicians. (The group would adopt the more simple moniker Chicago for their second album after the real-life Transit Authority threatened legal action.) Jimmy Guercio, also a native of the city of broad shoulders, was - having produced "Kind Of A Drag" and other brassy hits for the Buckinghams - of like mind with Parazaider and became an early benefactor, ultimately managing the group and producing their records.

Meanwhile, another group (helmed by wunderkind Al Kooper) had been developing a jazz-rock hybrid similar to Chicago's. Blood Sweat & Tears released their first album, Child Is Father To The Man, on Columbia in early 1968, and critics loved it. It failed to sell, however, and Guercio wound up producing Blood Sweat & Tears' self-titled follow-up - this one featuring singer David Clayton-Thomas. Blood Sweat & Tears spawned a plethora of hit singles (including "Spinning Wheel") and became a runaway success. Guercio's sudden cache with Columbia allowed him to leverage a record deal for Chicago. But, his association with Blood Sweat & Tears (and the timing of the deal) forever saddled Chicago with a copycat stigma - even though Chicago had been formed several months prior to Blood Sweat & Tears' inception!

When Chicago Transit Authority was finally released in 1969, the prolific creativity of the group's songwriters (especially Robert Lamm) and the band's inventive arrangements swelled it to a 2-LP set, something nearly unheard of at the time - even more so for a debut. The album sold respectably thanks to wide support from FM radio (then the exclusive domain of hipsters and classical buffs) and minor AM airplay for "Questions 67 and 68," the album's first single. It wasn't till the group's second album, Chicago II (another double), spawned the smash hit "Make Me Smile" that Chicago became pop stars, eventually selling many millions of records over the next ten years. Despite Chicago's newfound role as America's most popular rock band, the nascent rock press harped at the sophisticated nature of their music, the length of their albums, and the scope of their lyrical concerns (which frequently incorporated themes of personal introspection and political discontent). Parazaider once bemoaned Chicago as "the Rodney Dangerfields of rock 'n' roll," but the band's popularity rose steadily through most of the 1970's even as critics continued to revile them for their overreaching ambition.

Overreaching or not, Chicago's initial spate of releases (excepting their yawn-a-thon 1972 live album) are truly "classic rock." As Parazaider is keen to point out, Chicago was more of a rock band with a horn section than a jazz/rock band (which more accurately describes Blood Sweat & Tears). Moreover, this was a time before punk, disco, and other post-modern genres cast the pall of irony over rock, and Chicago produced music in earnest, aiming to both enlighten and entertain - a rare aspiration these days. Despite Chicago's fondness for long, complicated compositions such as "Ballet for a Girl in Buchannon" (from Chicago II), their first seven studio albums contain a cornucopia of great singles: "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is," "25 or 6 to 4," "Free," "Saturday In The Park," "Feeling Stronger Everyday," "Wishing You Were Here," and many more.

Chicago's next album, the hugely popular Chicago IX - Greatest Hits (1975), bookended the first phase of their career; the next phase is an unhappy one, as subsequent albums grew more and more bathetic till Chicago barely resembled its former glory. Chicago X (1976) and Chicago XI (1977) were respectable - if unspectacular - records that sold well; Chicago X, in particular, was a commercial success, spawning the #1 smash "If You Leave Me Now" and scooping up two Grammy Awards. But, Chicago was dealt an irreparable blow when Terry Kath - their most soulful vocalist and a guitarist praised by none less than Jimi Hendrix - died suddenly in 1978, the victim of an accidental, self-inflicted gunshot wound. Following this tragedy, Peter Cetera - always the most pop savvy of the group - asserted his leadership. Not coincidentally, the band also split with James William Guercio, Chicago's manager and producer since their inception; his career guidance and musical vision were soon sorely missed.

For years, Chicago had been steering away from their true strength - muscular, adventurous rock - towards softer, more conventional arrangements (even, to be fair, during Guercio's watch). Furthermore, Cetera's ballads had long been Chicago's biggest hits, and with Cetera calling the shots, the group began aimlessly pandering to the pop charts. Hot Streets (1978) introduced Donnie Dacus, the first of several replacements for the irreplaceable Terry Kath; by Chicago's high standards, the album was both an artistic disappointment and a merely minor hit. Sales plummeted even further with Chicago XIII (1979) and Chicago XIV (1980), unfocused disasters which, unlikely as it seems, found the group attempting disco ("Street Player") and new wave rock ("Manipulation"). Even working with two of the most venerable producers in rock - Phil Ramone (Hot Streets, Chicago XIII) and Tom Dowd (Chicago XIV) - couldn't save this increasingly befuddled band.

Following the 1981 release of Greatest Hits Vol. 2 (their fifteenth album), Chicago parted ways with Columbia, their longtime label. To their credit, however, the band came bounding back. They soon signed with a new label (Full Moon, distributed through Warner Brothers) and unveiled a new album (Chicago XVI, 1982), the first of several under the tutelage of schlock-meister David Foster. Once again, they began racking up the hits, though the power ballads and synthesized rock were enough to make Terry Kath roll over in his grave (and Jimmy Guercio hang his head in shame). Those Cetera-sung smashes - such as "Hard To Say I'm Sorry" (1982) and "Hard Habit To Break" (1984) - may have been hard to stomach, but when Peter Cetera departed for a solo career after the next album (Chicago XVII, 1984), Chicago lost its most prolific hitmaker, and their popularity soon plummeted yet again. Eventually, they regained their footing, reconstructing the sound of the band around Bill Champlain (formerly of the Sons of Champlain), Jason Scheff (son of Elvis sideman Jerry Scheff), and Robert Lamm (the sole remaining singer from the original group). Later efforts include a big band album (Night & Day, 1995), a 1998 Christmas record (Chicago XXV, re-released in 2003 as Christmas: What's It Gonna Be Santa?), and another live set (Chicago XXVI, 1999).

Chicago certainly sells fewer records these days, but they continue packing arenas worldwide, having earned and retained a reputation for dynamic showmanship and impeccable chops. Their catalog, too, remains a hot property. Since their inception, Chicago has released over two dozen records plus a slew of compilations and live albums, so collectors are faced with a daunting task. A little history is in order: Chicago released their albums through Columbia till the mid-80's, then switched to Warner Brothers. In the 90's, they gained control of their Columbia catalog and re-released it on their own Chicago Records. Then, in the new century, they commenced a more considered reissue campaign through specialist Rhino Records who has remastered and repackaged Chicago's golden era in generally fine form.

As implied above, I recommend Chicago's first seven studio albums with a minimum of caveat. The debut, Chicago Transit Authority (1969), is a sprawling, 2-LP set, a format the group retained through Chicago II (1970) and Chicago III (1973). Despite their length these were sharp records, though modern ears may find the extended passages tedious. Their next album was the taxing 4-LP live set Chicago At Carnegie Hall (1971) which, in a testament to the depth of their popularity, sold an amazing one million copies. Perhaps gleaning a lesson from the critical thrashing that bloated record received, Chicago V (1972) and Chicago VI (1973) were mere single albums that tightened the group's sound around taut, traditional pop structures. Chicago VII returned to the 2-LP format, relaxing the reins while retaining the pop sheen and incorporating new textures - acoustic guitar, Latin percussion, synthesizer. Chicago VIII did little to expand the group's palette, but it yielded a couple of nostalgic hits, including Lamm's charming "Harry Truman" and Cetera's effervescent "Old Days" (written by James Pankow, the band's trombonist). Rhino's renditions of these seven albums are marked by sterling sound and numerous bonus tracks, including single versions of songs ("Make Me Smile," for instance) extracted from various suites and medleys.

Old school fans may pine for Chicago's old Greatest Hits which, along with Greatest Hits Vol. 2 (1981), presents a pretty decent picture of the band's best work. Rhino has chosen to not reissue those albums; instead, they've compiled newer and (trust me on this) superior packages. Most notably, The Very Best of Chicago: Only the Beginning (2002) is a sharp, concise career overview ideal for casual fans - folks who like the later pop hits as well as the earlier rock singles. Dozens of similar packages (including Warner Brother's Heart Of Chicago Vol. 1 and Vol. 2) have been issued, but Rhino's Only the Beginning trumps them all in sound quality and presentation. Digging deeper, Rhino's Chicago (2003), an exhaustive five-CD-plus-DVD boxed set, allows room for rarities and standout LP cuts like "Listen," "Fancy Colors," and "In Terms Of Two."

Both of Rhino's retrospectives, however, include much material from Chicago's entire career - a liability if, like me, you prefer their earlier work. For diehards like us, I recommend chasing down Group Portrait (1991), Columbia/Legacy's out-of-print 4-CD box containing every hit through 1982. (Insist on Columbia's 6x12-inch version, not Chicago Records' smaller package sans the informative booklet.) While I'd quibble a tad with the selections, which omit Danny Seraphine's "Motorboat to Mars" (his spectacular drum-solo introduction to "Free") and "While The City Sleeps" (a personal favorite from Chicago V), there's enough LP material to illuminate the band's more expansive side. Chicago may be underappreciated by rock hipsters, but across the first three discs of Group Portrait we witness the rise of an ingenuous band during an increasingly disingenuous time. Beware disc four, however, as it chronicles the Chicago's descent into mediocrity... lest we forget.