For three years now, the critics have been laying into Three Dog Night for a variety of mostly hard-to-fathom reasons. But nobody, evidently, has been paying much attention to the tastemakers in this case, because Three Dog Night's records have been selling in greater quantities altogether than anybody else's. Biggest doesn't necessarily mean best, but the spectacular success of this group seems entirely justified; Three Dog Night is a terrifically good band.
Yup, they've got everything: sizzling instrumental work spearheaded by one of the very best rock organists, Jimmy Greenspoon, joy-provoking performing abilities that combine equal parts of high vaudeville prancing and stomping rock
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& roll energy, and, of course, three famous voices, equally adept at solos and those patented three-part power harmonies. What more could a rock group offer? A good songwriter, you say? Why bother, when you have a flair for finding tunes and a genius for arranging them so that they bear your incomparable stamp of identity?
Up until now, the band's greatest accomplishment was its first album, Three Dog Night. It was made quickly (under the direction of Gabriel Mekler), and there was a minimum of overdubbing. Consequently, the instrumental work had a spontaneous feel to it that contrasted dramatically with the complex and precise vocalizing. The unusual combination resulted in gems like "Chest Fever," "Nobody," and Danny Whitten's "Let Me Go." After three years, it still has the sound of a great rock album.
Although on subsequent albums, Three Dog Night did manage to strike that tricky balance between polish and rawness on specific tracks (which often metamorphosed into hit singles), they were never again quite able to sustain it for the course of an entire album. Until now, that is. In contrast to that first album, Harmony is full of refinements and special touches, as you'd expect from a veteran recording group. There's the coyote-howl guitar solo, for example, in "My Impersonal Life," the leapfrogging, ascending voices and 2001 harmonies in "You," and (from way back in the Sixties), following their version of Moby Grape's "Murder in My Heart for the Judge," there's the appearance of a riff borrowad intact from the Buffalo Springfield's "On the Way Home." The album is loaded with flavoring devices like these, but they never seem gimmicky or overdone, as they sometimes did on earlier albums. The group has learned–finally–how to put a finish on their work without at the same time robbing it of its vitality or directness.
They've mined Hoyt Axton for all he's worth, first with "Joy to the World" from their last LP, and now, "Never Been to Spain." Again, the group has effortlessly surpassed the original performance. Not only that: they've elevated Axton's songs themselves from a level of unfocused silliness to one of unbridled joyousness. They do just as well with Stevie Wonder's "Never Dreamed You'd Leave
