Chicago - The authority of the Windy City

I had listened very closely to Ray Charles, noticing that he'd written a good deal of his old repertoire. Then the Beatles came along, and they wrote their own music too. I discovered Miles Davis and Gil Evans, and by the mid-Sixties I was completely captivated by the music of Antonio Carlos Jobim

(Robert Lamm)

No way, nobody wants to play that ridiculous thing! There's no way I'm going to look like a fool playing the trombone!

(James Pankow)

And then there was Hendrix. Jimi really was the last person who truly managed to scare me. He played all the stuff I had in my head. I couldn't believe it when I heard him for the first time. Man, nobody will ever be able to do what he did with a guitar. Nobody will ever be able to take his place

(Terry Kath)

Terry Kath is the best guitarist in the universe

(Jimi Hendrix)

9 mm

“What do you think, that I want to blow my brains out?”. The last words of Terry Alan Kath are among the most mocking and unsettling in rock history, as the coroner who arrived in the Woodland Hills neighborhood of Los Angeles certified the death of the “best guitarist in the universe” on the night of January 23, 1978. The body of the thirty-two-year-old from Chicago was wrapped in a plastic bag too small for his size, so much so that his big snakeskin boots stuck out of it. “I'll keep it all under control,” he had promised his friends and bandmates just a few months earlier, “otherwise this stuff is going to kill me.” The ambulance carrying the body vanished into the Los Angeles night, after yet another party fueled by cocaine and hard liquor at the home of roadie and sound engineer Don Johnson. The cause of death is among the most terrifying imaginable: a self-inflicted gunshot wound, fired by accident with a 9mm that only appeared to be unloaded. Terry had always loved target shooting, and had recently gotten his gun license to indulge his passion for revolvers and rifles. During that last party, Johnson is visibly worried, because the guitarist had already tried to shoot himself in the finger with a .38 - which, this time, really was empty. “Don't worry, Don,” Kath tells him, “see, the magazine isn't even in.” But then along comes that damned 9mm, which for some absurd reason still has a bullet left in the chamber. That bullet snuffs out Terry's life in an instant, along with the future of one of the most beloved bands in the history of the United States.

The Big Thing

“Hello?”. The young, reckless drummer Danny Seraphine doesn't sound too convinced answering the phone, in a rather complicated period of his adolescence. “Hi, is this Danny? It's Tommy Ullo, man. I'm calling because Jimmy Ford and the Executives are looking for a new drummer.” “What?” Danny replies, almost in disbelief. “Jimmy Ford and the Executives. Dwight Kalb, the drummer, is leaving because he wants to go solo as an artist. They want a replacement right away. Would you be interested in auditioning for them?” It seems unreal to Danny, divine intervention in the form of a phone call right after he'd decided to give up on music. Born in Chicago, the “Windy City,” at the end of August 1948, Daniel Peter Seraphine grew up in the Italian neighborhood, falling in love with the first stirrings of rock 'n' roll from an early age. He started playing drums in music classes at St. Priscilla Catholic School, soon dropping out of school to join a local gang, the JPs. Between drinking bouts and brawls with rival Puerto Rican gangs, at not even 18 he's thinking about quitting music altogether right before Tommy's call. Jimmy Ford and the Executives are one of the hottest bands in Chicago, part of Dick Clark's circuit for his Cavalcade of Stars tours, which included artists of the caliber of Little Richard and Fats Domino. Masking his excitement, Danny accepts the offer and shows up a few days later at Dwight Kalb's house, where he meets musicians older and more accomplished than himself. There's Mike Sistack, guitarist; Terry Kath, on bass; a very tall saxophonist named Walt Parazaider. The members of the Executives are all wearing preppy sweaters, while Seraphine shows up in a leather jacket with slicked-back hair. The audition song is “Papa's Got A Brand New Bag,” from the repertoire of James Brown. “The job's yours, man,” a satisfied Sistack tells him. Fifty dollars a show, the first one in two weeks in Pittsburgh with Simon & Garfunkel, the Four Seasons, and an unknown band from the UK called the Yardbirds. Danny nearly faints when he learns there will be around 10,000 people in attendance.

Working hand in hand on the new rhythm section, Danny strikes up a friendship with the group's bassist, Terry Alan Kath. Born on January 31, 1946 and raised in the Norwood Park area, Terry followed in the footsteps of his brother and mother, falling in love with music as a teenager. He got himself a guitar and a small amplifier at just nine years old, refusing to take lessons and instead teaching himself by listening to stacks of records of every kind. After entering the semi-professional scene with the Mystics, Kath then moved on to Jimmy Rice and the Gentlemen in early 1965. Before taking the bassist role in Dick Clark's road band.

The group also includes Walter Parazaider, originally from Maywood, who trained in clarinet at the private DePaul University with an eye toward a possible career as an orchestral player. Walter, however, was struck by lightning by the early Beatles records, determined to form a rock 'n' roll band with the addition of horns. Specializing in covers of rock, R&B and soul artists, Jimmy Ford and the Executives prove the right launching pad for nurturing his dream, as he awaits the big show at the Civic Arena. It's a genuine baptism of fire for the new drummer, who in short order cements a special bond with Parazaider and Kath, while the group plays the main clubs across the Chicago metropolitan area. Until the day the "three musketeers" are suddenly fired by Mike Sistack, because the Executives are merging with an R&B horn band called Little Artie and the Pharaohs. "Don't take it personally," Sistack pontificates, "it's just business."

Fortunately it's Parazaider who takes charge of the situation, after talking to his childhood friend Chuck Madden, who is looking for new musicians for his group Missing Links. The repertoire is made up entirely of covers, but the pay is eye-watering: a full $500 a week. The Missing Links are in fact much in demand at Chicago's various nightclubs, giving its new members the chance to sharpen their musical chemistry. The group is short-lived, though, since within a few months bookings plummet dramatically. Having enrolled at DePaul University to improve his technique, Seraphine proposes to Walt and Terry that they leave the Missing Links for a more ambitious project, one that would fuse rock and jazz into a single sound. The supergroup Danny envisions initially runs into resistance from Parazaider, who is weighing the possibility of joining the Chicago Symphony as second clarinet. Meanwhile Kath is being courted by the Illinois Speed Press, a rock-blues group about to relocate to Los Angeles to ride the rising hippie movement. Having won Parazaider's approval, Seraphine also talks Kath into it, with the specific offer of moving him to lead guitar and, crucially, bringing in his close friend Lee Loughnane. Born in October 1946 in the Elmwood Park area, Lee David Loughnane started playing trumpet at age 11, following in his father's footsteps in the Army Air Force band. After finishing his Catholic schooling, Loughnane enrolled at DePaul University to study music, utterly convinced he could become a professional musician.

The horn section is rounded out with the addition of James Carter Pankow (1947), originally from St. Louis and from a family of German-Irish descent. Having moved to Park Ridge at age eight, James started playing trombone at St. Paul of the Cross Elementary School, later attending Quincy University and DePaul. One piece is still missing: a bassist to replace Kath who can also play organ, following the example of several musicians of the era such as Ray Manzarek. So they reach out to Robert William Lamm, born in 1944 in Brooklyn, who moved to Chicago before he was even fifteen after his mother's second marriage. Lamm got his start in music in the men's choir at Grace Episcopal Church, later studying music at Roosevelt University. After forming Bobby Charles and the Wanderers, Lamm is talked by Seraphine into trying out the dual rhythmic role, becoming the sixth member of the long-sought supergroup.

March 1967. The group holds its first rehearsals in the suburb of Maywood, in the basement of Parazaider's mother's house. The musical chemistry is excellent right away, and so is the personal one: the band will be thoroughly democratic, with no one putting their own ego ahead of the goal of making good music. It will never be "just business," as in Sistack's view of things, but rather a way of life. To break into the live circuit, the band hires local promoter Joe De Francisco, who immediately suggests a rather curious name: Top Banana. Met with puzzled looks, Joe comes back with The Big Thing, pronounced Chicago-style as The Big Ting. The new manager's plan is to make the group famous around Las Vegas, while Big Thing rehearse tracks like "Hold On, I'm Coming" and "(You're My) Soul And Inspiration." Their first show is on a Saturday night at the Pussycat, a well-known nightclub, where they try out a sound far more electric than their acoustic rehearsals. At first the group struggles to land dates, until they meet young promoter and marketing whiz Phil Rapp, who catches them playing one night at his venue, Barnaby's. Rapp's move is pretty extreme — offering a box of fried chicken along with the ticket — but it works.

The tasty promotion draws in Chicago's young crowd, as does the decision to put the group on as openers for the Exceptions, already quite popular in the city. Big Thing work songs by Frank Zappa and the Beatles into their set, drawing increasingly bigger crowds to their shows, eventually overtaking the Exceptions in popularity. At a show at Shula's Club in Niles, Michigan, one audience member in particular, Jimmy Guercio, listens to the band with unusual attention. Born in 1945, James William Guercio already has several stints as a musician and composer behind him, most notably with the duo Chad & Jeremy on the hit single "Distant Shores" (1966). He was briefly a member of Frank Zappa's Mothers of Invention, before joining the staff at Columbia Records and working as a producer for the Chicago group the Buckinghams. Having relocated to California for a while, he had tried to bring Terry Kath into the Illinois Speed Press. Stung by the guitarist's refusal, Guercio decides to accept his friend Parazaider's invitation, in order to check out the very group Kath had chosen instead. "Guys, you're the best band I've heard in years. I want you to sign with my production company right now." The guys are over the moon, they trust Guercio, and they know full well that his clout is far more powerful than Rapp's fried chicken. Despite a none-too-reassuring legal opinion — "be careful, this contract will tie you to him hand and foot" — Big Thing sign in a flash, while Guercio is already talking about a debut album to be recorded in California.

Chicago Transit Authority

After signing with Guercio, Big Thing follow with great interest rumors that Peter Cetera might be about to quit the Exceptions. Born in 1944, Peter Paul Cetera hails from the area south of Morgan Park, enrolled as a teenager at Archbishop Quigley Preparatory Seminary at his mother's insistence, since she wanted him to become a priest. At age eleven he got into music through singing, learning accordion in place of the guitar he actually wanted. Dubbed "a polka prodigy," Peter got into rock 'n' roll around age 15, after going to see a Rebel Rockers concert with friends. He went on to play bass in various amateur groups, growing fond of the Beatles after an early Gene Vincent phase. That continued until he met the Exceptions in the mid-1960s, where he wrote his first song, "Come On Home."

Respected by everyone for his natural vocal and instrumental gifts, Cetera clashes with the Exceptions in the spring of 1967, opposed to the psychedelic turn the rest of the band wants to take. "Why don't you join our band," Seraphine asks him, "you'd be perfect for the higher vocal parts." Cetera seems like a perfect fit for a shift toward a more rock-oriented sound, but at first Guercio won't sign off on bringing him in, judging him "too much of a prima donna." On top of that, Peter's assertive personality doesn't mesh well with Kath's more over-the-top one. Cetera nonetheless starts rehearsing with the band, who are now looking for original material to pair with their usual covers. The American summer of 1967 is a scorcher, both musically and politically, with increasingly frequent and heated clashes between civil rights supporters and police, while general frustration over the Vietnam War keeps growing.

Before heading back to California, Guercio suggests the group listen closely to the work of Vanilla Fudge, a new strain of psychedelic rock built on soul classics like "You Keep Me Hangin' On" by the Supremes. Big Thing thus start rehearsing the first songs written by Lamm, running into trouble with the owners of Chicago's various venues, who want covers and nothing else. The new setlists cause more than a few headaches on the local club circuit, sending the group's bookings into a sudden nosedive, bringing them to the verge of collapse. To survive, the band calls Guercio and asks to relocate to California, placing themselves in the hands of manager Larry Fitzgerald. Now seven strong, Big Thing get a pay rate of $45 a week and a small apartment on Holly Drive, in the Hollywood neighborhood of Los Angeles. From the Troubadour to the Whisky a Go Go, the clubs along the famous Strip are teeming with music and pretty girls, but the group stays focused on work, while Lamm and Pankow keep writing new songs about the social turmoil shaking the States after the tragic deaths of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy.

Guercio's next move is a name change for the band, who drop the never-loved The Big Thing in favor of Chicago Transit Authority, taken from a bus company often used in the past. This brings their first live show at Venice Beach, opening for Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention, in front of 60,000 revelers amid topless girls and a heavy scent of marijuana. The crowd's response — setting aside the soft drugs — is good, and the newly minted CTA finally feel free under the West Coast sun.

After several frustrating gigs at clubs full of VIPs, the group opens for Love at the Earl Warren Showgrounds in Santa Barbara, earning modest success in front of more than 50,000 people. The band fears being just another Midwest act among many, until they meet Elmer Valentine and Mario Maglieri, former police officers of Italian descent, themselves from Chicago, and more importantly owners of the hugely popular Whisky a Go Go on the Strip. The two take the CTA's fortunes to heart, booking them regularly and stoking word of mouth among the club's regulars. The crowds grow exponentially as a result, allowing Guercio to bring in Columbia's A&R reps as part of his deal with the label. The group goes wild when none other than Jimi Hendrix shows up backstage, who will later go on to publicly heap over-the-top praise on him as "the greatest guitarist in the universe." The big break is just a step away, when the band learns they'll be opening for Janis Joplin and her Big Brother and the Holding Company at the Fillmore West in San Francisco, then the mecca of progressive thought and flower power.

While the CTA experiment with their first doses of LSD, Guercio is working to land a record deal with his friends at Columbia, who initially refuse to sign them because they've already got Blood, Sweat and Tears on the roster. But Columbia wants Guercio to produce Bst themselves, and so the idea is born: work on the New York band's self-titled second album in exchange for getting Chicago Transit Authority signed. The group flies to the East Coast to settle in at the City Square Hotel in Times Square, working at the CBS Studios on 42nd Street for their first recording sessions after two years of gigs and rehearsals.

The Chicago Transit Authority is thus recorded in just under a week in January 1969, a total of 12 tracks running almost an hour and twenty minutes, which the band wants to release as a double album. Columbia's top brass are stunned — very few acts had dared a double album as a debut — but in the end they agree, in exchange for a drastic cut in royalties.

Also known by its shortened title Cta, the album is released on April 28, 1969, opening with Terry Kath's manifesto "Introduction," a staggering jam lit up by a Motown-style horn section and let loose through free-jazz passages, orchestral rhythms and wild hard-blues runs that immediately showcase the crystalline talent of Jimi Hendrix's new protégé. The band's sound is defined by intense free-form dialogues with the horn section, as when Lamm's piano takes the lead on "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?", which revives the orchestral flavor of Tin Pan Alley, blended with crooner-style vocals and the lysergic pop of the Beatles. A delicate, airy acoustic arpeggio opens the following "Beginnings," again carried by Lamm's crooner tones, drawing inspiration from the work of Richie Havens. The track's final minutes show just how seamlessly a horn section can blend into a jazz-rock context, followed by an irresistible Caribbean-flavored coda.

The acidic “Questions 67 and 68” revisits the rhythmic ballad format in a soul-rock key, handed for the first time to Cetera's smooth lead vocal. “Listen” veers toward a pounding blues built on a powerful, funky bassline, which is picked up by Kath's blazing guitar to open and drive the obsessive gallop of “Poem 58”. Terry's talent is finally unleashed amid the instrumental distortions of “Free Form Guitar”, in some sense the band's own “Revolution 9”. The Liverpool quartet is referenced once again between the lines of the sultry hard-blues “South California Purples”, before the astonishing offbeat latin-jazz groove of the album's only cover, “I'm A Man”, originally by the Spencer Davis Group of Steve Winwood.

The final side of the record opens with “Prologue, August 29, 1968”, a short recording made by Guercio of the protest chant The Whole World Is Watching outside the Conrad Hilton Hotel in Chicago during the 1968 Democratic Convention. The protests against the Vietnam War run over the R&B groove of “Someday (August 29, 1968)”, which fades into the explosive, nearly 15-minute closer, the majestic marathon “Liberation” written by Pankow, blending incendiary blues, soul grooves and free-form improvisation. Defying even the rosiest of optimists, the double album would soar to number seventeen on the Billboard 200, staying there for a record 171 consecutive weeks. The band would also earn a nomination for the Grammy Award for Best New Artist that year, going on to claim two platinum records with over 2 million copies sold in the States.

Chicago

Released on the US market in spring 1969, the album The Chicago Transit Authority initially struggled to find an audience, held back mainly by AM radio stations, due to tracks considered too long for airplay. Columbia's marketing efforts were all focused on Blood, Sweat & Tears, while the band ground it out through various shows in the Los Angeles area before a miraculous call from Jimi Hendrix, who wanted them specifically to open for him after his incendiary performance at the Monterey Pop Festival. Their first show with the guitarist was at the Coliseum in Charlotte, North Carolina, where the crowd lapped up material from the new album and Kath's virtuosity, sparking word of mouth that proved decisive for the band's fortunes.

The CTA performed between San Francisco and New York, where they stopped that summer to immediately record a second album with Guercio. The title would simply be Chicago — later known as “Chicago II” — since the band's management had suggested shortening the name after legal threats from the transit company of the same name. Once again material was recorded for a double album, which the band intended to be more controlled and less raw than their debut. The new record introduced the italicized logo designed by Columbia art director John Berg, inspired by the famous Coca-Cola one. Work at the CBS studios centred on Pankow's new composition, the suite “Ballet For A Girl In Buchannon”, which tells of his attempt to win back his ex-girlfriend Terrie Heisler. It was the band's first experiment with a long-form, multi-movement piece, starting with a more radio-friendly approach on the pop-soul “Make Me Smile”. The track was trimmed down to a palatable three minutes and thirty-two seconds, breathing with a newfound lightness that spills into its carefree chorus.

From the waltzing step of “So Much To Say, So Much To Give” to the western dust of “Anxiety's Moment”, the suite opens with the instrumental progressive piece “West Virginia Fantasies” before slowing down into the romantic piano ballad “Colour My World”. While the band plays in 4/4, Seraphine's drums mark out the syncopated “To Be Free” in 3/4, backing Kath on the closing “Now More Than Ever”, which revisits the central theme of “Make Me Smile”.

Opened by the mix of fifties-style soul and orchestral jazz on “Movin' In”, Chicago carries on experimenting with a sound forever balanced between poise and skewed architecture. The melodic “The Road” swerves quickly into a complex progressive rhythm, while piano leads the dark, Beatles-esque fanfare of “Poem For The People”. Returning to blues tradition on the warm “In The Country” — the chemistry between Kath and Cetera works beautifully here — the band gradually introduces more pop-choral textures, as on “Wake Up Sunshine”, which carries a whiff of Beach Boys.

The third side of the album opens with the march “Fancy Colours”, transformed into a latin rhythm amid wah-wah effects, trumpet blasts and flute. The new direction is marked by the astonishing “25 Or 6 To 4”, written by Lamm about the frustrating urge to write a song in the dead of night, a mix of Zeppelin-esque hard-blues — the chord progression closely echoes “Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You”, released a year earlier — and catchy, folk-tinged harmonies that climbed to number four on Billboard's chart of the 100 best-selling singles. Chicago kept pushing the suite format, opening in classical style the roughly 9 minutes of “Memories Of Love”, in collaboration with American composer and conductor Peter Matz. The arrangements verge on the Disney-esque, right up to Kath's aching crooner-style delivery, which spills into the funky riff of “It Better End Soon”, another four-movement work running over ten minutes. Conceived as a musical protest against the Vietnam War, the track moves with remarkable nonchalance from pastoral folk to jazz improvisation, from electric blues scales to soul intensity.

It's a statement of technical superiority and enviable versatility, now made even more palatable to the mass market thanks to a greater pull toward radio-friendly form, as on the elegant, auteurish pop closer handed to Cetera, “Where Do We Go From Here?”.

After playing in front of more than 100,000 people at the Atlantic City Pop Festival, Chicago entered the big leagues, invited to perform at Woodstock while finishing up the recording of their self-titled album. But the band had a contract with promoter Bill Graham and had to honour several dates at San Francisco's Fillmore West at the same time. Rumours circulated: Graham himself allegedly didn't want the band to play Woodstock so as not to overshadow Santana — better to keep them away from the festival that, among other things, would send Carlos and his band into the stratosphere. The group consoled themselves by returning home for the first time, to the Auditorium Theater in Chicago, on Thanksgiving Day.

Then came their first European tour, kicking off at the Royal Albert Hall in London before moving on to France and Switzerland, in front of ecstatic crowds. When they got back to the States, Chicago learned that their second album, released in January 1970, had sold over 500,000 copies. Exhausted after more than 250 live dates throughout 1969, the band showed up at the management's offices to collect what was owed to them, only to discover with utter dismay that, once production costs and touring expenses were factored in, they actually owed Guercio thousands of dollars. Such were the devastating effects of the contract signed back in their Big Thing days — the price to pay for national fame, as “Make Me Smile” and “Colour My World” kept playing nonstop on American radio. Chicago were now on everyone's lips, ready to make the leap into luxury hotels, ravenous groupies and an imposing private jet.

At Carnegie Hall

Despite the contractual terms dictated by Guercio, the strong results of the second album allowed the band to stabilize financially and focus more calmly on their next moves. There were several tracks left off the first two records, new compositions to work on, and above all several musical styles still to explore. The seven of them were exhausted from nonstop touring through June 1970, when they returned to New York's CBS studios to record Chicago III, once again (incredibly) a double album, released in January 1971.

The record kicks off with the funky tones of the long jam “Sing A Mean Tune Kid”, making room for Kath's frantic wah-wah before veering into the now-signature jazzy improvisation of “Loneliness Is Just A Word”. With two albums behind them, the band focused on a more meticulous level of songwriting, as on the harmonious “What Else Can I Say”, which dances along a psychedelic waltz rhythm amid refined vocal arrangements. Kath's instrumental strength and inventiveness are let loose without restraint on the hard-blues “I Don't Want Your Money”, somewhere between Canned Heat and Electric Flag. The second side of the record is taken up entirely by the more than twenty minutes of the “Travel Suite”, introduced by the soft acoustic folk of “Flight 602” — one of the new additions to the band's sound — and punctuated by Seraphine's drum solo on “Motorboat To Mars”. Lamm brings in the horns on the aggressive uptempo rocker “Free”, followed closely by pure improvisation on the experimental “Free Country”. The suite is then softened by the more relaxed sound of “At The Sunrise” and “Happy 'Cause I'm Going Home”, which travel along a path somewhere between Beatles-esque pop and latin la-la-la progressions.

The album is another overflowing river, from the free-jazz of “Mother” to “Lowdown”, the second song written by Cetera with Danny Seraphine. “Never tell anyone I played on that track,” Terry Kath would tell his bandmates, but its loose, laid-back style gives the song just the right dose of electrified relaxation. It's the guitarist himself who signs off on the gem “An Hour In The Shower”, a mini-suite that opens with acoustic blues (“A Hard Risin' Morning Without Breakfast”) before suddenly speeding up with soul horns (“Off To Work”) and swerving into psychedelia (“Dreamin' Home”), before closing the sonic circle with the central theme (“Morning Blues Again”). In some ways, a work very similar to the Beatles' medley on the second side of “Abbey Road”.

Chicago III closes with Pankow's six-part magnum opus, “Elegy”, which opens with the brief narration of “When All The Laughter Dies In Sorrow”, a return to protest against the American government. “Once Upon A Time…” flutters along in classical fashion, while “Progress?” ventures into the uncharted territory of musique concrète. In the final two movements, “The Approaching Storm” and “Man vs. Man: The End”, the whole band leaps without a safety net into sublime jazz-rock, a perfect example of uncompromising fusion music.

As cocaine use begins to creep into Chicago's ranks, the band's third double album climbs the American charts, heading toward platinum status and dragging along old singles from the first LP, which are now cleaning up on the charts. Back in the UK, the band faces a trade press that hasn't warmed to Chicago III, provoking Kath's fury: "Fuck all of you, Eric Clapton sucks". In April, on American soil, the group performs for a full week at the famous Carnegie Hall in New York, the first rock band ever granted the honor of playing seven consecutive dates in a true temple of classical music. Rehearsals are anything but easy, since the hall's acoustics clash with the band's sound, especially the horn section. The idea is to record the various shows for a first live album, initially planned with a quadraphonic mix, later abandoned. Columbia is more than skeptical given its outrageous length, a quadruple album running almost three hours.

Chicago At Carnegie Hall – better known as "Chicago IV" – comes out at the end of October, criticized by the music press for its excessive length and above all for the sound quality, which flattens the drums and electric guitar, as well as the horn section, which is obviously among the band's main strengths. For the listener it's a genuine marathon, as the band warms up before greeting the crowd and launching into "In The Country". The acoustic problems are immediately apparent, particularly on the horns, which suffer a kazoo-like effect, while Kath's explosive guitar is seemingly pushed into the background. "We're going to play a lot of songs from our first three albums," Cetera promises the audience before "Fancy Colours", whose wild Caribbean-flavored coda is certainly less compelling than the studio original. The concert continues with the piano tour de force that opens "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?", followed by the epic-length "South California Purples", which puts Kath's towering wah-wah blues architecture front and center.

The crowd warmly welcomes the acidic "Question 67 And 68", which flows into the other funk-jazz romp "Sing A Mean Tune Kid", noticeably weakened by a sound that doesn't match the seven musicians' technical skill. Things fare better, for instance, on the progressive suite "It Better End Soon" – a great flute solo from Parazaider – or on the blistering hard-blues of "Introduction", despite the flattening of Kath's vocal performance.

Chicago nonetheless prove themselves a formidable live band once the rhythmic build of "Mother" kicks in, along with the recent "Travel Suite", which takes up the entire sixth side of the record. The band holds nothing back, staging the other suite, "Ballet For A Girl In Buchannon", complete with the heartfelt rendition of "Make Me Smile". Opening the final side is the previously unreleased "A Song For Richard And His Friends", "dedicated" to Richard Nixon with a blend of jazz and blues flavored with prog.

It closes in style with the dazzling Latin-flavored romp of the cover "I'm A Man". With over a million copies sold and a third-place finish on the Billboard chart, Chicago At Carnegie Hall is an album torn between extraordinary live versatility and a sound quality that fails to do justice to the band's grandeur.

Live in Japan

After the live marathon at Carnegie Hall, Chicago fly back to New York at the end of September to begin recording sessions for a new album. With millions of copies sold and a steadily growing fan base, the band decides it's time to work on shorter songs, better suited to radio airplay. Chicago V comes out in the summer of 1972, for the first time as a single album running roughly 45 minutes in total, mostly written by Lamm with a greater focus on a more commercial sound, with no single track exceeding six minutes. The new progressive venture that opens the album is "A Hit By Varèse", inspired by the work of French composer Edgard Varèse and carried out in free-form mode somewhere between Emerson Lake & Palmer and Yes. It clocks in at just 4 minutes and 54 seconds, proof of the group's new intent to move away from their most exhausting experimental jams. Robert Lamm's substantial contribution continues right away with the relaxed, Beach Boys-style vocal atmospheres of "All Is Well", while Pankow returns to the more fusion-oriented sound of the second album with the aggressive "Now That You've Gone". The band's lyrical side doesn't forget its political message either: in the airy, two-part uptempo "Dialogue", the voices and instruments of Kath and Cetera converse on America's problems. The approach is indeed more mainstream compared to the furious experimentation of the early albums, but Chicago rely on their own state of grace to avoid missteps, as shown in the superb orchestration of wah-wah, horns and backing vocals in the coda of that same mini-suite.

The album's second side opens with the terse jam "While The City Sleeps", setting up what would become one of the band's best-known and best-loved hits, the sparkling power-pop of "Saturday In The Park", which shoots straight to the top of the singles charts. It's the cornerstone of the band's new, more melodic direction, which pushes the whole record to double-platinum status with over 2 million copies sold. Next come the two longest tracks, the storming hard-funk groove of "State Of The Union" – a great vocal and bass performance from Cetera – and the soft-jazz improvisation of "Goodbye". Closing things out is the Hendrix-like slow burn of "Alma Mater", carried by a Kath who is generally less involved in the songwriting process, more a refined performer of a new sound that winks at radio programmers and sells by the truckload.

To ride the success of Chicago V, the band embarks on its first world tour, covering as many as 16 countries in about a month. Personal relationships among the seven, however, are strained by the ordinary friction of a life constantly on the road, made worse by the decision to bring along wives and girlfriends. In Stockholm a furious argument breaks out that nearly ends Chicago's story for good, resolved only by a self-imposed rule not to bring partners along on an entire tour again. Back in the States, they're contacted by famed producer Quincy Jones, who is organizing a tribute to Duke Ellington for a CBS television special, alongside legends like Ray Charles and Aretha Franklin. Chicago choose "Jump For Joy", earning the respect of the American jazz scene, which had initially turned up its nose at Jones's choice.

With local distribution handled by Sony Japan, CBS releases the double album Live in Japan at the end of 1972, drawn from three of the band's performances at Osaka Festival Hall the previous June. The new live album finally does justice to the band's sound after the issues at Carnegie Hall, thanks to a direct recording made with two eight-track systems. While the New York show is probably more satisfying from a technical standpoint, the Osaka recording carries a more urgent, genuine feel, starting with the dialogue between bass and guitar across the two parts of the recent "Dialogue". The double album is the quintessence of the band's seventies incarnation, somewhere between hippie outfits and blazing wah-wah runs. With lyrical input from Osamu Kitayama, "Lowdown" is sung in Japanese, ahead of the romping "State Of The Union".

Compared to the Carnegie Hall version, the sound of the nearly 15-minute suite "Ballet For A Girl In Buchannon" is absolutely faithful to the studio version, with the horn section right up front. Kath takes charge on the funk-blues of "Mississippi Delta City Blues", brought into the tour's setlist after being cut from the Chicago V tracklist. Also sung in Japanese is the version of "Questions 67 And 68", the last melodic statement before the furious, magnificent closing run made up of the trio "25 Or 6 To 4", "I'm A Man" and "Free". The band is at the peak of its powers, despite the grueling schedule, moving between towering hard-blues romps and jaw-dropping Latin-soul-jazz arrangements.

VI & VII

At the start of 1973 Chicago leave CBS's New York studios to record at the newly completed Caribou Ranch in Colorado, built by Guercio in the heart of the Rocky Mountains. Unlike many studios of the time, Caribou Ranch is a place meant not just for working but for living, offering musicians rooms where they can unwind. Another big difference lies in the recording schedule, which can now be far less restrictive since there are no other bands booked in. It's a space entirely dedicated to the group, who have just taken an album to the top of the charts and are now following it up with a new member, Brazilian percussionist Laudir de Oliveira. Discovered through several jams with Sergio Mendes's group, Laudir is set to enrich the band's already well-known Latin influences. Part of the recording sessions is filmed by Dick Clark Productions for a TV special called "Chicago in the Rockies".

The atmosphere and pace of Caribou Ranch change the band's compositional rhythm, as they work by day only to let loose at night with women, alcohol and cocaine. What's especially worrying is Terry Kath's lack of restraint: he has recently taken up firearms as a hobby, shooting visibly impaired at beer cans set up as targets outside the Ranch. Known to the press under the label of "Mercedes of Rock" – meant to underline an image of seriousness, elegance and sobriety – Chicago go to great lengths to maintain an aura different from that of bands like Zeppelin. Kath manages to play brilliantly even while wasted, but the other members grow increasingly worried about his overall physical and psychological decline.

In May 1973 the group goes back on tour across the States, with a very young Bruce Springsteen opening for them, having just released his debut album "Greetings From Asbury Park N.J.". A month later Chicago VI comes out, opening with the smooth piano of "Critics' Choice", another Lamm composition responding to the various criticisms leveled at the band after the supposed commercial turn of Chicago V. The aggression of the early albums, though, seems to have faded, replaced by the gentler easy listening of the pop-ballad "Just You 'n' Me", written by Pankow. The album is unusually short – not even 40 minutes – built from effective but decidedly less experimental tracks, like the classic blues-rock groove of "Darlin' Dear", in which many note a resemblance to Little Feat. Kath contributes the heartfelt "Jenny", working with a guitar style close to Jimi Hendrix's "Angel", backed by the congas of newcomer Laudir de Olivera.

Overall, the album marks a shift toward a Middle Of The Road (MOR) approach, steering the band's typical fusion leanings toward a more radio-friendly sound, as in "What's This World Comin' To". "Something in This City Changes People" plays with sweeter vocal melodies over a blend of classical piano and light Latin touches, while on "Hollywood" you can hear how the band's trademark sound slows down in favor of relaxed, no-strings-attached listening. Not necessarily a bad thing, since the songwriting remains top-notch, with Cetera's bass engaging in dialogue with the new Brazilian presence in the group. "In Terms Of Two" brings in the harmonica to sketch a country-pop landscape, followed by the whispered sinuousness of the wah-wah guitar on "Rediscovery". The new hit is "Feelin' Stronger Every Day", an uptempo rocker written by Pankow with Cetera about the difficult but still very solid relationships among the band members themselves.

Chicago VI repeats the success of its predecessor, once again topping the Billboard chart, helped by a sound more palatable to the general public.

Back on tour, the band has a lawyer review Guercio's new contract with Columbia, to avoid repeating the mistake made five years earlier. The terms aren't especially favorable, but the only one to object is Danny Seraphine, since the other members seem thoroughly satisfied with the status they've achieved, both artistically and financially. So Chicago sign without much negotiation, returning to Caribou Ranch studios in the summer of 1973 to plan their next move on record. A first crack within the group emerges, however, with Seraphine pushing for an immediate return to their jazz and R&B roots after the recent commercial slowdown. On the other side are mainly Peter Cetera and Guercio, who see no reason to abandon a chart-topping MOR sound.

The alarm is defused by finding a middle ground, with the band releasing yet another double album in March 1974. Chicago VII opens, not by chance, with the tropicalist instrumental "Prelude To Aire", driven by percussion and flute flowing into the following "Aire", where Laudir de Oliveira's carioca approach merges with the horn section in the style of Weather Report. It's the band's experimental soul resurfacing on jazz and R&B roots, leaning on Kath's elegant solo before launching into the more than ten minutes of "Devil's Sweet". Seraphine's nocturnal groove is accompanied by arrangements à la Miles Davis, accelerating amid spacey keyboard and synthesizer effects, with the addition of new outside member David James "Hawk" Wolinski. The experimental approach is taken to extremes on the following "Italian From New York", bordering on musique concrète, with heavy use of the Arp synthesizer played by Lamm in dialogue with Kath's sci-fi wah-wah. An album opening unlike anything Chicago fans had heard before, completely devoid of vocals until the brief fusion interlude "Hanky Panky".

Another record begins with the hypnotic funky midtempo "Life Saver", with tones progressively softening and thus a decisive turn toward the so-called MOR. The band can still unleash splendid sonic rides, but the desire to court the charts translates into more relaxed, romantic tones, as on "Happy Man". "(I've Been) Searchin' So Long" is the new hit that reaches number eight on the Adult Contemporary chart, a honeyed, dreamy track blending certain progressive atmospheres of Yes with the vocal style of the Beach Boys. While the carefree "Mongonucleosis" plays with funk and arrangements à la Tito Puente, "Song Of The Evergreens" is Terry Kath's first direct contribution to the album, hovering in a spacey sound before accelerating into souped-up soft-rock. The guitarist showcases his immense technical skill on the following "Byblos", an acoustic serenade with a Latin flavor.

The flip side of the record lies in the ethereal pop ballad "Wishing You Were Here", with special backing vocals from Al Jardine alongside Carl and Dennis Wilson, putting the old hippie spirit to work for new commercial needs. The following "Call On Me" is in fact a retread of "Saturday In The Park", evoking sunset-on-the-beach scenes over the composed rhythm of Ipanema Beach-style percussion. Far more interesting is the wah-wah that drives the funky-jazz "Women Don't Want To Love Me", followed by the warm gospel-soul of "Skinny Boy".

Balanced between high-level experimentation and commercial swaying, Chicago VII remains a thoroughly solid record, despite the band's first internal rifts.

The Pop Turn

Recording sessions at Caribou Ranch studios wrap up in late 1973, followed by a brief American tour with the Beach Boys, with Guercio on hand trying to help the band climb back up the American charts. The latest commercial success with Chicago VII prompts the manager to squeeze the band even further, and they regroup once again in Colorado in the summer of 1974. Creative energy is running low, however, to the point that Laudir de Oliveira is brought on as a permanent eighth member of the group.

Chicago VIII comes out in spring 1975, marked by a return to a rockier sound and Robert Lamm's increasingly reduced involvement, as he chooses to give more room to Cetera, Pankow and Kath. The general enthusiasm of earlier records tries to resurface with the melodic beat-rock of "Anyway You Want", but the R&B polish of "Brand New Love Affair" quickly slips into atmospheric easy listening, despite Kath's strong Ray Charles-style vocal performance. The first of Lamm's few contributions is the romantic ballad "Never Been In Love Before", followed by Cetera's gutsier hard-rock burst "Hideaway", enhanced by Kath's bluesy solo. The same guitarist pens the short folk ditty "Till We Meet Again", while "Harry Truman" is indeed enriched by a jazz arrangement evoking the Great Depression era. We are of course light years away from the greatness of the early records, partly invoked by the psychedelic textures of "Oh, Thank You Great Spirit", fittingly the album's longest track, with a fitting instrumental coda between spacey guitar and pounding bass.

The rest of the album, however, betrays the weariness felt by the band itself, from the vaguely progressive approach of "Long Time No See" to the pop vacuity of "Ain't It Blue?". The record is closed out by Pankow with the uptempo rocker "Old Days", which reaches number three on the American Easy Listening chart, driving yet another commercial success with over a million copies sold. But the warning bell rings loud and clear: this is the first Chicago record to offer no particularly notable ideas.

At the end of 1975, Columbia releases the band's first Greatest Hits, also known as Chicago IX, to tremendous response: number one on the Billboard chart in America and a full five platinum records. The group can thus enjoy a well-earned rest, not returning to the studio until spring 1976, to record what fans would affectionately call "The Chocolate Album". Chicago X proves to be a watershed record, marking the band's definitive pop turn, with a total running time under 40 minutes and no track over 4 minutes.

It kicks off at a brisk pace, with the wild rock 'n' roll of "Once Or Twice", featuring soul horns and Kath's Otis Redding-style vocal delivery. The tempo is immediately slowed by the tropicalist jazz of "You Are On My Mind", written by Pankow along with the following "Skin Tight", enhanced by an elegant funky horn section with brief wah-wah interludes courtesy of Kath.

The restorative break seems to have done Chicago good, as they land a knockout blow with Cetera's soft-rock ballad "If You Leave Me Now". It's Guercio himself who insists on releasing the track as a single, initially clashing with some band members who find it too lightweight. The sweetness of the vocal, paired with acoustic strumming and orchestral flourishes, secures a number one spot on charts across much of the world, for the first time simultaneously in both the US and the UK.

The album continues with one of Loughnane's rare direct contributions, featuring the spacey percussion of the honeyed "Together Again". "Another Rainy Day In New York City" is the other unexpected hit, with its arrangement straddling reggae, calypso and jazz-rock. The orchestral arrangements led by Jimmie Haskell continue to accompany the band's new pop taste on "Mama Mama", while "Scrapbook" vigorously blends soul and funk in the manner of Stevie Wonder.

Having rediscovered a certain compositional flair, Lamm continues his trilogy on side two with the Beatlesque "Gently I'll Wake You", before launching into the whirlwind "You Get It Up", which packs the band's absolute excellence in jam format into just over three minutes.

The closing of "Hope For Love" is an intense, sensual ballad reaching gospel-soul heights, closing out an album of rare melodic elegance, certainly poppier by the band's standards, but a focused effort compared to the general fatigue shown on Chicago VIII.

The stunning success of the single "If You Leave Me Now" catches the band off guard, as they had never topped the charts on either side of the Atlantic before. The song brings home two Grammy Awards in early 1977 - Best Arrangement and Best Pop Vocal Performance - losing only to Stevie Wonder for Best Album of the Year. Peter Cetera's songwriting suddenly becomes one of the most sought-after on the market, and the bassist thus becomes "the voice of Chicago".

The band sets off on tour for much of 1977, returning to the studio in the spring to record Chicago XI. As on the previous album, the opening is entrusted to the skilled hands of Terry Kath, whose funky guitar soars on the electric "Mississippi Delta City Blues". In the year of punk, Peter Cetera is virtually obligated to replicate the success of "If You Leave Me Now", delivering the new orchestral pop of "Baby, What A Big Surprise", driven by Dominic Frontiere's arrangements. The anxiety of repetition, however, makes the band more predictable and in some ways tedious, as on the melodic dance number "Till The End Of Time", written and sung by Pankow. While Lamm sketches out calm soft-jazz scenarios on "Policeman", Seraphine recalls the recent death of a close friend on the excellent fusion experiment "Take Me Back To Chicago", featuring backing vocals from Chaka Khan.

Chicago try their hand at gospel-soul on "Vote For Me", bringing in the choir The Voices of Inspiration, while leaving Kath's Hendrix-like guitar to lead the blues-rock of "Takin' It On Uptown". It's precisely Terry's songs that hold the album together, along with Seraphine's more jazzy work, producing the hushed "Little One". Tracks like "This Time" - another Lee Loughnane contribution - move instead toward a softened soft-rock sound, thus satisfying the less demanding needs of easy listening fans. The album thus marks a step back from the successful Chicago X, simply because the band is chasing a new approach, given their continued chart success.

Still Alive

After the release of Chicago XI, tension between the band and Jimmy Guercio escalates to extreme levels. Chicago hire attorney Ken Kleinberg to carry out a thorough review of the state of the business, which finally comes under the scrutiny of all the members. The division of royalties is still disproportionate, as Seraphine had already complained years earlier. The band decides not to pursue legal action, limiting itself to forcing Guercio to renegotiate the terms of the contract, in a professional relationship now reaching its end. Dick Duryea is promoted to head of management, while Guercio books several dates on the European summer festival circuit, a decision the band doesn't take well due to the sweltering heat and poorly suited venues. Panic breaks out at Cbs's offices, terrified of the band possibly imploding over contractual disputes. The band thus chooses a new manager, Jeff Wald, turning down Columbia's own proposal to hand the task to the team managing Earth, Wind and Fire.

Hopes rise for a fresh start for the band, without accounting for a factor that will very soon prove dramatically decisive: cocaine. The old hippie splendor has given way to the shadows of substance abuse, affecting all the band members but Terry Kath above all. The talented guitarist admired by Jimi Hendrix has indeed spiraled into a vortex triggered by excessive drug use, which has changed his behavior. In the wide open spaces of Caribou Ranch, Kath started shooting at any object he set his sights on, obtaining a gun license so he could practice, almost always while high. "We're worried, man", the other band members tell him, "something bad could happen to you soon if you don't get the drugs under control. Plus you carry these guns with you everywhere you go". "Don't worry", Kath often replies with a smile, "everything will work out, it'll be fine".

Weeks later, in a flash of clarity, Terry admits he's seriously addicted, that he has to quit cocaine to avoid ending up dead. Then comes the cursed night of January 23, 1978, during the party in Canoga Park: "It wasn't my fault", cries Donny, the Chicago roadie who organized the party, one of many built around music, beer and cocaine. "I tried to warn him but he kept playing with that fucking gun. I'm telling you the truth". That tragic game known as Russian roulette, trying to shoot yourself in the head convinced the gun is unloaded. And the first one used is indeed unloaded, Kath laughs. But then he picks up another one of his, also sure to be unloaded. Instead, it will be a bullet left in the chamber that cuts short the life of one of the most incredible guitarists of the entire decade, the heart and soul of Chicago.

News of Terry Kath's tragic death reaches the press, as well as the top brass at Cbs. The band is devastated, in tears at Forest Lawn Cemetery in Los Angeles during the funeral, not even entertaining the idea of continuing to play after such a traumatic event. Chicago gather at a villa in Bel Air, urged on by Doc Severinsen, leader of the house band on The Tonight Show, not to stop. "This isn't what Terry would have wanted", they tell themselves, "Chicago can't suddenly flush almost ten years of great music and extraordinary success down the drain". As a gesture of reconciliation, Guercio guarantees the band a fairer distribution of royalties, but the toughest hurdle now is choosing a replacement guitarist, a mission bordering on the impossible.

Chicago know, in fact, that no musician will ever be able to fill the void, that the band's unique sound is now gone forever. Walter Yetnikoff, president of Cbs, suggests giving an audition to James O. "Donnie" Dacus, originally from Pasadena, Texas. Born in October 1951, Dacus started teaching music at a music store at the age of fourteen, playing on an amateur level in the local band The Chantels. Having joined The Yellow Payges in the late 1960s, Donnie worked mainly as a session musician, lending guitar and vocals to artists such as Billy Joel, Stephen Stills and Neil Young. During the audition, Chicago are surprised by the guitarist's great skill, as he knows several songs by heart, including "25 Or 6 To 4" and "Little One". Dacus can sing with good fluency, has excellent technique and above all great confidence in his abilities, with a clean image that Cbs likes a great deal. Some members of the band aren't convinced, though, precisely because of a rockstar attitude that has never been part of Chicago's identity, but in the end they give the green light: Donnie Dacus will take on the arduous task of replacing Terry Kath.

To start over in a different way, the band opts for a series of choices that break with the past, beginning with new producer Phil Ramone, who had already worked on mixing with Guercio. The new album will be titled Hot Streets, dropping the band's name itself along with the Roman numerals, and there will also be no Coca-Cola style logo on the cover. The recording sessions in the spring of 1978 are booked between Criteria in Miami and Record Plant in Los Angeles, leaving Caribou Ranch strictly tied to the former manager and producer.

Released in early October, Hot Streets offers a promising start, with Dacus's new funky guitar driving "Alive Again" - a title that's no coincidence - which boasts a shimmering sound and a dance-rock cadence. It quickly veers, however, toward syrupy soft-pop with "The Greatest Love On Earth", following the typical sound of the Bee Gees, who appear as special guests on backing vocals in the following "Little Miss Lovin'". With Cetera's aggressive vocals, the track is one of the few nods to the now-bygone era, its rock foundation tinged with soul and R&B. Dacus's bluesy solo is good, even if obviously light years away from Kath's genius.

Lamm's contribution, generally understated, opens with the danceable groove of "Hot Streets", verging on disco-pop, while Dacus's first turn as vocalist comes on the soft, romantic "Take A Chance". Laudir de Oliveira's percussion gives the track a tropicalist touch, but regardless of personal taste, one can sense a chasm between Kath's warm soul voice and Donnie's ethereal, pop one.

Cetera tries to shake things up chart-wise with "Gone Long Gone", played in a guitar style very similar to George Harrison's. Chicago alternate between sharper rhythms, like the dark riff of "Ain't It Time", and softer, more soft-jazz melodies ("Love Was New"), but ultimately end up avoiding any real creative spark. It's no coincidence, then, that the velvety pop of "No Tell Lover" fails to climb past number 12 in the States, quite an anomaly by the band's standards.

Hot Streets is undoubtedly an honest record, but at the same time it's the debut of a new band that can never go back to how things were.

Falling

After the release of Hot Streets, which sells over a million copies but fails to break through on the charts, Chicago embark on a lengthy world tour across the United States, Europe and Australia. The band ends up in a Wall Street Journal investigative piece, which links Seraphine to an alleged direct relationship with American mob figures through his nightclub, "B.Ginnings". Meanwhile, management meets with the head of Cbs to renegotiate the terms of their record deal, due to expire within the next three years. Brandishing the (invented) threat of an offer from Warner Brothers, Chicago secure a new five-album deal worth a considerable 28 million dollars. Pleased with the lucrative contract, the group brings back Phil Ramone to resume work between New York, Hollywood and Montreal in the spring of 1979.

The band is fully aware of the major shifts on the American music scene following the explosion of punk, new wave and disco. That's why Chicago 13 – which returns to the classic numbering system after Hot Streets – puts the horns to work in the service of dancefloor rhythms on the over nine-minute "Street Player", written by Seraphine with Hawk Wolinski. Cetera's vocals shock longtime fans with a style closer to Village People, before the trumpet solo and the hand-clapping interlude over Caribbean percussion.

The nods to danceable grooves find further outlet in the urban funk of "Paradise Alley", while Dacus tries to carve out space as a songwriter on the most classic Aor format of "Must Have Been Crazy". Chicago thus attempt to blend a more airy, melodic rock ("Mama Take") with more strictly R&B arrangements ("Window Dreamin'"), but the result is a flat, particularly dull record. The ragtime blues of "Aloha Mama" tries to recapture some of that old sparkle, but "Reruns" doubles down on soft-pop without any real conviction. Decidedly better is the jazz atmosphere of "Life Is What It Is", enriched by De Oliveira's airy percussion in unison with Cetera's free-flowing vocals, and certainly the best horn arrangement on the whole album.

But that's not enough, because "Loser With A Broken Heart" borders on irritating, just as the closing "Run Away" coasts along on an uptempo rhythm without ever standing out, for better or worse.

In a thoroughly unusual turn of events, Chicago 13 proves to be a flop both on the charts – peaking at 21st on the Billboard 200 – and commercially, managing only a gold record with half a million copies sold. The album is also savaged by critics, who of course point the finger at the new dance turn taken on the single "Street Player". Betraying Seraphine's initial enthusiasm, the record ends up among those brought to the "Disco Sucks" event at Comiskey Park in Chicago, burned alive by the more than 50,000 people present at that sorry bonfire. The blame for the recent commercial fiasco falls on Donnie Dacus, deemed unfit to steer the evolution of Chicago's sound. The guitarist is pushed out, particularly by Cetera, over compositional disputes, and draws the ire of the rest of the group after setting up his own personal merchandising stand during the last tour.

The situation is also critical from Cbs's point of view, having offered a monster deal only to receive a flop album in return. Walter Yetnikoff is furious over the group's internal decision to fire Dacus, ready to invoke a leaving member clause to tear up the contract that had just been renewed. Accompanied by their lawyer, some members of the group show up at Columbia's offices, leaving with their tails between their legs, well aware of the mess they'd created by firing Dacus.

To record the next album, Chicago XIV, the band brings in Chris Pinnick, already known for his work with Herb Alpert on the hit single "Rise". Pinnick is never officially introduced as a band member, but the others consider him an extremely gifted guitarist, remarkably similar to Terry Kath. Recorded in spring 1980, Chicago XIV is bound to mark the band's rebirth, banking on production from the celebrated Tom Dowd, who had already worked with prestigious names such as Eric Clapton, Allman Brothers and Rod Stewart. The direction seems clear: ditch the dance music and orchestral trappings to go back to being direct and sharp.

The result, however, is disappointing yet again. Despite a promising start – the aggressive rocker "Manipulation" at times feels like a genuine return to form, with solid bass, guitar and horn work – Chicago XIV loses its way across the grooves, from the syrupy pop of "Upon Arrival" to the blue-eyed soul of "Song for You", with Cetera increasingly drawn toward an accessible and inevitably flat sound. "Where Did The Lovin' Go" thus tries once again to replicate the success of the hit "If You Leave Me Now", coming off as cloying with its orchestral flourishes. It falls to Seraphine to try to salvage the record's fortunes with the romantic march "Birthday Boy", and above all with the Steely Dan-style jazz of "Thunder And Lightning", written right after the tense showdown with Columbia's top brass and a particularly turbulent flight home.

The album tries to turn more aggressive with the tight rhythm of "Hold On", before veering toward exotic destinations with the Caribbean groove of "Overnight Cafe". What remains of the original fusion approach is "I'd Rather Be Rich", while the closing "The American Dream" still leaves room for Cetera's soulful voice, never so dominant on a Chicago record. The album fails to win over the public, stalling as low as 71st place and failing to sell even half a million copies.

At the dawn of the new decade, the band no longer stirs the hearts of its fans, and struggles mightily to win over new ones. Already furious over the decision to fire Dacus, Columbia weighs the flops of the last two studio efforts, which inevitably lead to a sharp drop in tickets sold for the promotional tour. The nearly 30-million-dollar deal secured by management thus turns into a boomerang: Cbs executives end up paying 2 million dollars just to get rid of the band for good.

To honor one last release, the label puts out Greatest Hits, Volume II – also known as "Chicago XV" – made up mainly of material from the band's most recent years.

With a Little Help from My Friends

At the dawn of the Eighties, Chicago desperately need a change. Having left Columbia in traumatic fashion, the group changes managers, bringing on board old acquaintance Howard Kaufman. Together with his partner Irving Azoff, Kaufman secures a new deal with Full Moon Records, a label controlled by major Warner Brothers. But there's another dark cloud on the horizon: the state of some of the band members needs checking, such as Robert Lamm, gripped by delusions brought on by cocaine abuse. Or Peter Cetera, increasingly dissatisfied, busy working on his first solo album and open to any kind of new professional opportunity.

Seraphine comes across a talented singer named Bill Champlin, whose lower vocal range sits below Cetera's and could blend perfectly in the wake of Kath's loss. The drummer is well aware of the need to reorganize the band, which lets go of Laudir De Oliveira in order to move away from the softer, more pop-oriented sound. After the flop with Dowd, Chicago consider David Foster as producer for their next album, given his track record with John Lennon, Rod Stewart and Diana Ross. In the band's mind, Foster is the right man to breathe new life into the group, not least because he's a huge fan of their early work. Winning back Chicago's old fans is an absolute priority, but there's a problem: Warner Brothers' marketing department insists that no radio station will give heavy rotation to songs with horns, now seen as the relic of a bygone era. Luckily, hiring Foster turns out to be the winning move, because David is an excellent musician as well as producer, and he understands the new rules of the game well, helping the group adapt with a little outside help.

David Paich (keyboards), Steve Porcaro (synthesizer) and Steve Lukather (guitars) are in fact invited to the recording sessions for Chicago 16, better known to the wider public as members of Toto. Foster doesn't want to completely overhaul the band's sound, but he pushes for more modern instruments and recording technology, turning down the decibels on the horns so they blend into the overall mix, effectively finding a middle ground between radio marketing demands and Chicago's own identity. The producer also strikes up a strong songwriting rapport with Cetera, sidelining Lamm, who after years of glory can't seem to get anything right anymore due to increasingly serious cocaine problems.

Chicago 16 is thus the band's comeback album, released in June 1982 after a more meticulous studio process. From the very first bars of the synth-driven uptempo opener "What You're Missing", the new direction is crystal clear: lean more heavily on outside contributions — the songwriting duo Jay Gruska and Joseph Williams — and above all, put the horn section at the service of a decidedly more modern brand of pop. Everything changes on "Waiting For You To Decide", with Foster working alongside Toto, while Cetera splits lead vocal duties with new recruit Bill Champlin. The classic bassline is completely reworked, now folded into an architecture of keyboards and synthesizers.

Foster's work strips away the band's old disco leanings to reshape the sound on tracks like "Bad Advice", polished with a glossy coat of funk and radiant pop. "Chains" (Ian Thomas) revives the power-ballad format, which reaches its fullest expression with the orchestral flourishes and distorted guitar solo of "Hard To Say I'm Sorry", which sends the band back to the top of the charts in the States.

The pounding coda of "Get Away" bridges into side two, opened by Champlin's warmer, baritone voice on the sturdy Aor of "Follow Me", a perfect example of how the horn section can remain intact within a more mainstream sound. Pinnick's guitar work feels decidedly more functional than Dacus's, while Champlin sounds completely at ease on the mic on the soft-pop "Sonny Think Twice". The record also succeeds thanks to a newfound sense of balance, evident for instance in the well-judged arrangements of "What Can I Say" or in the mix of synthesizers and hard-edged guitar on "Rescue You". The other hit is the closing "Love Me Tomorrow", a towering, melodramatic pop number that cracks the Adult Contemporary singles Top 10.

The success of "Hard To Say I'm Sorry" allows Chicago to get back on their feet after coming close to professional extinction, drawing in new waves of fans with a brand-new sound. The promotional tour for Chicago 16 is a huge success, filling stadiums and civic arenas with a younger crowd utterly smitten with Peter Cetera. There's clearly no time to waste for the band, who — not without some difficulty — convince Foster to return to work across various Californian studios between mid-1983 and early 1984. The Canadian producer raises his ambitions even further, continuing to work with Jeff Porcaro and bringing in other session players, such as Carlos Vega, Paulinho da Costa and Paul Jackson Jr.

The goal is clear: push Cetera even further into the spotlight while leaving the famous horn section behind. The new single "Stay The Night" is emblematic of this shift, cranking up the singer's vocals over a hard-rock beat wrapped in techno-synth arrangements. Chicago's classic rhythm section thus disappears, replaced by synthetic bass and heavy use of the drum machine. The funky groove of "We Can Stop The Hurtin'" is given melodic harmonies and marks the welcome return of Robert Lamm, on the mend after years of substance abuse.

The album leans on the hit ballad "Hard Habit To Break", written by the duo Steve Kipner and John Lewis Parker, which reaches number three on the American charts with its soft-pop romanticism. The same goes for the anthem "You're The Inspiration", originally written by Cetera with Foster for Kenny Rogers, then recorded during the Chicago 17 sessions to yield another chart-smashing single. The North American producer aims for the stadium-sized power ballad with "Remember The Feeling", built so that an audience spanning generations can feel moved and sing along without distinction. "Along Comes A Woman" fills the danceable funk-pop slot, getting heavy rotation in early 1985 thanks to the widespread popularity Foster had achieved across the American Aor landscape.

Obviously, the band's longtime fans can't be entirely happy, but by this point it's a completely different band. Lionel Richie is brought in to co-write "Please Hold On", while the finale is left to James Pankow, who pens the rhythmic keyboard-and-horns dance number "Once In A Lifetime", capped off by rock guitar and Latin percussion. This new collaboration with Foster brings unprecedented success: fourth place in the States and six platinum records, but above all a musical style that redraws the boundaries of Adult Contemporary, serving as a blueprint for years to come.

In a way completely unlike the late Sixties, Chicago once again become an influential force on the American scene.

Changes

By spring 1984, Chicago are back on top of the world, with several singles dominating the radio and the best-selling album of their career. The band plans a massive world tour, but Peter Cetera is against it, admitting to the other members that he's hit a phase of burnout. In reality, things are quite different: before the tour, he wants to record his second solo album, and he has already contacted management to renegotiate some details regarding royalty splits. In essence, Peter Cetera now sees himself as the undisputed leader of Chicago, and wants greater financial recognition for the recent hits that have relaunched the band at home. Then, all of a sudden, the bassist and singer holds a press conference announcing to the world that he's leaving the group to focus on his solo career.

Having already lost their soul with Terry Kath, Chicago now lose "the voice", another devastating blow for the band's future. Once again it's a record-label boss, Lenny Waronker, who suggests the group hire a 23-year-old bassist, Jason Scheff, deemed the perfect figure to replace Peter. Hailing from San Diego, California, Scheff doesn't initially win over David Foster, who has other singers in mind for the next album. However, the band members are convinced after hearing the auditions, following the Warner boss's hunch, since Scheff's voice bears a striking resemblance to the original. The new challenge is an extremely tough one, though: matching the staggering success of Chicago 17 once again with Foster, with new guitarist Dawayne Bailey also joining the fold. The band has to postpone entering the studio, simply to give priority to Cetera, who is under contract with the same label, Warner Bros.

Chicago 18 is thus released late, in the autumn of 1986, preceded by Peter's second record, "Solitude/Solitaire", which storms the American charts with the single "Glory Of Love", featured on the soundtrack of "The Karate Kid Part II". This proves a significant problem for Chicago, who end up being overshadowed by Cetera himself, not helped by a weak record that fails to climb higher than number 35. Starting with the first single "Niagara Falls", Foster's magic touch fails to find the right alchemy this time, subjecting the polished pop to an intensive treatment of synthesizers, sampling and drum machines.

On tracks like "Forever", the absence of a melodic voice like Peter's is painfully evident, representing a serious loss on the songwriting front as well. Although commendable, Scheff's vocal work alongside Champlin on the romantic "If She Would Have Been Faithful..." carries less emotional weight, while the reasoning behind the techno-synth remake of "25 Or 6 To 4" remains unclear.

It's yet another ballad, "Will You Still Love Me?", that saves the day, securing the band another third-place finish and rescuing the whole album from a resounding flop. Back in the game, Robert Lamm teams up with Steve Lukather to write the more rock-leaning "Over And Over", while the Foster–Champlin duo produces the uptempo synth number "It's Alright". There's also room for new member Jason Scheff, who crafts the soft-pop "Nothin's Gonna Stop Us Now", before the closing "One More Day", written by Pankow in an attempt to revive a horn section now reduced to a merely atmospheric element.

The artistic flop of Chicago 18 leads the band to reconsider David Foster, keen to speed up production of a new album to beat Peter Cetera to the punch. They bring in one of the hot songwriters of the moment, Diane Warren, along with a new producer, Ron Nevison, already working with Heart. The recording sessions for Chicago 19 are anything but smooth, since the horn section is once again sidelined from the sound for commercial reasons. The band once more goes all-in on commercial appeal, from the arena-rock of "Heart In Pieces" to the new single, the sweeping pop ballad "I Don't Wanna Live Without Your Love", which climbs to third place on the Billboard chart. While Lamm now seems incapable of writing a song on his own — the funky "I Stand Up" is co-written with Gerard McMahon — Scheff seems increasingly comfortable stepping into Cetera's shoes, fronting the other mainstream hit "We Can Last Forever".

Little of the band's rock edge remains, perhaps only in Champlin's aggressive "Come In From The Night", because the direction to take is all too clear: churn out another blockbuster of adult-contemporary rock. Remembering their experience with Foster, Chicago produce yet another power ballad, "Look Away", which turns out to be the biggest hit, dragging the whole album towards a million copies sold. It's a formula repeated like clockwork in a tear-jerker factory, as with "What Kind Of Man Would I Be?", definitively shelving any pretense of being musicians of the highest calibre.

Having found a new manager in Pete Schivarelli, a close friend of Seraphine's, Chicago gear up for a new tour, intending to head straight back into the studio afterwards to plan their next move. After the summer of 1989, Danny Seraphine receives a strange phone call essentially informing him that the rest of the band wants to try out some songs without a drummer. The drummer is blindsided; he rejoins the group but senses a general indifference. Playing live, Seraphine notices the band no longer follows him, leaving him largely alone in keeping time. Rumours start circulating about a supposed burnout, until the informal decision is made to use a session musician on the next album.

Danny is understandably furious, despite management's promise that he would keep his royalties and his name in the credits. He flies to Los Angeles, where he finds the group rehearsing in the studio with a new drummer, John Keane. Pankow accuses him of getting too caught up in the business side of things, having lost focus on the music. Seraphine is repeatedly reassured: no one intends to fire him, it's just a break meant to help him get back on track professionally. Danny decides to go back to studying, focusing harder than ever in order to return to the stage for a show at the Phoenician Hotel in Phoenix. But the other members of the group don't seem all that convinced, and they decide to cut him loose for good in May 1990.

Holding on

With Seraphine out of the picture, Chicago hire new drummer Gregory Tristan "Tris" Imboden, who had already worked with Kenny Loggins' band and with Peter Cetera himself on the album "One More Story". The band thus completes the recording of Twenty 1, again with Ron Nevison paired with Humberto Gatica. Robert Lamm publicly announces the return of the horn section after the last few albums of the 1980s, while Nevison will later describe the studio work as fragmented. Chicago once again turn to Diane Warren's pen for the new power ballad "Explain It To My Heart", while putting the horn section back centre stage in the synthetic pop-rock of "If It Were You". Scheff leans into melody on "You Come To My Senses", while Champlin tries his hand at a sturdier rock number with "Somebody, Somewhere".

It's instinctively clear that this is an album without peaks, lost among countless songwriters and a band that by now is frayed and soulless. "What Does It Take" skirts irritating tedium, only partly redeemed by the following "One From The Heart", which briefly revives the band's signature blend of horns and Lamm's familiar voice. The hit is the soft-soul "Chasin' The Wind", which nonetheless fails to rise above 13th place on the US Adult Contemporary chart, sinking the whole album. At the height of the grunge era, American radio suddenly has no room left for a band still anchored to the sound of the previous decade, despite the decent funky groove of "God Save The Queen".

The arena-rock riffing of "Man To Woman" in fact opens into a ballad well suited to the David Foster era, just as the gentle piano of "Only Time Can Heal The Wounded" seems almost to seal the end of an era. The band now looks like a caricature of itself, caught between the pounding beat of "Who Do You Love" and the weakest soft-rock instincts of "Holdin' On". A thoroughly anachronistic record, galaxies away from the rawness of the new generation of rockers.

After receiving a star on Hollywood's famous Walk of Fame — a bad omen following a disastrous record like Twenty 1 — Chicago reconvene in the studio to record Stone Of Sisyphus, which, in the intentions of Lamm and co., is meant to mark peace with longtime fans by returning to a sound closer to their original one. "Making music for the right reasons," Scheff will say, almost as if repenting for certain commercial excesses from the 80s onward. Old friend Peter Wolf is brought in to produce, and he warns the whole group: "Don't try to write hits, you have to work from the heart and a great album will come out of it." The recording sessions are thus kept strictly secret, with Warner Bros. left in the dark, in order to regain focus and, above all, creative control. The release date is already set for 22 March 1994, but in the autumn of 1993 a more or less final version of the record ends up in Warner's offices. It's first heard by Michael Ostin, head of the A&R division, who jumps out of his chair with excitement. Merchandise is even ordered bearing the words "Chicago XXII", a return to Roman numerals after more than ten years. Then comes a stunning about-face from the label's top brass, who ask the band to go back into the studio and work on something "less adventurous". "We're sorry, but that's how it is," Warner's managers explain, with the label itself going through a delicate moment due to an imminent change in top management.

Wolf doesn't take it well, accusing the label of only caring about money, while new guitarist Dawayne Bailey calls it a devastating blow for the whole band. It's a matter of artistic freedom essentially crushed, which leads to a genuine internal rift within Chicago. Bailey himself, who had worked on several of the album's tracks, decides to leave the group, replaced by Keith Howland. Relations with Warner Bros. are so badly damaged that the band first turns to Rhino Records and then chooses the path of independence.

With an album left in limbo, Chicago head back out on tour in 1994, before returning to the studio to work with Canadian producer Bruce Fairbairn (Bon Jovi, Aerosmith) on a concept album, released in spring 1995 on Giant Records. Night & Day: Big Band is thus an all-covers record drawn from the repertoire of great artists from the golden age of jazz and swing, from Duke Ellington to Cole Porter. It opens with the typical Tin Pan Alley atmosphere of "Chicago" (Fred Fisher), before reinventing Ellington's "Caravan" with a Latin approach reminiscent of the band's old arrangements from the 1970s.

The band's intelligence lies in avoiding a faithful reproduction, perhaps disappointing genre purists but guaranteeing an enjoyable listen for longtime fans. The horns are naturally back in the spotlight, led by James Pankow on tracks like "Moonlight Serenade" (Glenn Miller), while Lamm's sparkling piano accompanies the classic "Dream A Little Dream Of Me", with Scheff's sugary vocals alongside the female group Jade.

From the funky-swing version of "Goody Goody" to the savannah-like rhythms of "Night And Day" (Cole Porter), the album is thoroughly enjoyable, even if it's ultimately just a divertissement within the band's discography. There's also room for big-name guests, like Joe Perry on guitar for the main solo of "Blues In The Night", and the Gipsy Kings on the warm tribal rhythm of "Sing, Sing, Sing", with the lyrics completely overhauled. This, however, is the key approach to avoiding a mere nostalgia trip, as on "In The Mood", which keeps the classic horn-driven rhythm while also introducing new rhythmic textures thanks to new guitarist Bruce Gaitsch. In the end, "Don't Get Around Much Anymore" and "Take The 'A' Train" almost sound like old Chicago songs — the kind of Chicago by then lost after the blow dealt by Warner Bros.

A new era

After the release of Night & Day: Big Band, Chicago bought back the rights to their old material from Columbia, working to set up a self-titled record label, naturally an independent one. With no new studio albums forthcoming, two compilations were released instead: The Heart Of Chicago 1967-1997 and The Heart Of Chicago 1967-1998 Volume II. In mid-1998 the band decided to tackle another special project, a Christmas album produced by Roy Bittan, longtime keyboardist of Bruce Springsteen's E-Street Band. As with Night & Day, the Chicago sound is cleverly applied to seasonal standards, from the gospel-jazz groove of "Little Drummer Boy" to the soft-funk of "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen". Fortunately the band doesn't fall into mere holiday name-dropping, giving a soul-pop touch to traditional songs such as "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas". "The Christmas Song" gets the typical piano-and-horns arrangement, while "Feliz Navidad" opens on acoustic guitar before veering into a relaxed mix of percussion, flute and accordion.

The only original track is a new Loughnane composition, "Child's Prayer", a medieval-folk-style march entrusted to the youth choir led by Ryan Kelly. The funk version of "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town" is intriguing, less so that of "Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!", which sticks all too closely to the original.

In the end the record proves to be one of the most eclectic entries in the Christmas album canon, pleasing both lovers of holiday music and die-hard fans of the band.

Chicago's last release of the '90s is Chicago XXVI: Live In Concert, the first live album with the new line-up, recorded during the 1999 tour. The set opens on a nostalgic note, with a convincing version of the suite "Ballet For A Girl In Buchannon", despite the stark contrast between Kath's raspy voice and Jason Scheff's more melodic one. The band sounds in good shape on the pounding Latin rhythm of "Mongonucleosis" and the powerful hard-blues rendition of "Feelin' Stronger Every Day".

The tracklist leans toward reclaiming the band's glorious past, from the elegance of "Beginnings", with a fine vocal turn by Lamm, to the galloping "25 Or 6 To 4", which breathes new life into the horns after years of mistreatment. It's not clear, though, why the band chose to include three new studio tracks on the record, probably a purely commercial move to push it up the charts. "Back To You" is a soft-pop number dripping with treacle; "If I Should Ever Lose You" revisits Burt Bacharach with the same syrupy approach, while the R&B "(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher And Higher" is a cover of Jackie Wilson, featuring Michael McDonald on vocals. Decidedly weak tracks that partly spoil what is otherwise a satisfying live record for longtime fans.

Defying expectations, the live album fails to chart, leading the band to shut down their self-titled label and hand over all publishing rights to Rhino Records at the dawn of the new millennium.

The label's first move is to release the double-disc compilation The Very Best Of Chicago: Only The Beginning, which celebrates the band's best work and goes on to achieve a surprising double-platinum certification. The fate of the massive five-disc box set The Box, released in 2003, is quite different, as it fails to make a dent in the English-language charts. Rhino thus appears to be in full nostalgia mode, remastering the entire Columbia catalogue and reissuing Chicago XXV: The Christmas Album with the addition of a new six-track section, What's It Gonna Be, Santa?.

After touring with Earth, Wind & Fire, Love Songs is another marketing exercise, timed to celebrate Valentine's Day in 2005. Chicago return to the studio the following summer to put out their first true album of new material since 1991. Chicago XXX is recorded in Nashville with producer Jay DeMarcus (Rascal Flatts), a friend of Jason Scheff's and a big fan of the band. The album initially seems to signal a new sonic direction with the trip-hop groove of the single "Feel", though it's followed by the ballad "King Of Might Have Been", which essentially reverts to the '80s template of the hit "Hard To Say I'm Sorry".

The band cranks up the guitars over the country moods of "Caroline", handing the sugary pop of "Why Can't We" to Shelly Fairchild's voice. The following "Love Will Come Back" again tries to win over the AOR crowd, featuring Rascal Flatts themselves, while "90 Degrees And Freezing" makes a tentative return to the funk-pop of old. "Where Were You" pushes toward a more aggressive hard-pop, while "Already Gone" works a danceable groove with fine guitar work from new member Keith Howland. Robert Lamm pursues a soul-pop path on the sleek, sample-driven "Come to Me, Do", followed by the vocal harmonies of "Lovin' Chains".

The record certainly won't satisfy fans of the band's earliest era; instead it tries to modernize their typical '80s sound — for instance on the easy-listening "Better" — with results somewhere between a classic pat on the back and genuine annoyance.

Finale

The new album Chicago XXX, after years of waiting, isn't rewarded on the charts, stalling at a modest 41st place in the States. In 2006 the band performs for several consecutive weeks at the MGM Grand Las Vegas, then over a handful of summer dates with Huey Lewis and the News. Rhino keeps up with the compilations, releasing The Best Of Chicago: 40th Anniversary Edition in 2007, which fails to repeat the success of the collection from five years earlier. Just when Chicago seem ready for the rock'n'roll retirement home, June 2008 brings the troubled Chicago XXXII: Stone Of Sisyphus, the famous lost album produced by Peter Wolf. Recorded in 1993 and brutally shelved by Warner, the record had in the meantime become the stuff of legend among longtime fans, eager to hear what would have been Chicago's grand return to more experimental territory.

The album indeed proves adventurous, opening with the funk/pop/hard-rock arrangement of "Stone Of Sisyphus". The following "Bigger Than Elvis", however, returns to well-trodden pop-melody paths, with an airy vocal contribution from the Jordanaires. Then there's the new funky groove of "All The Years", where Chicago return to political subject matter, with Lamm's lyrics decrying the lack of change since the Sixties. The band genuinely goes back to experimenting with fusion on "Mah-Jong", showing real ambition, perhaps even overreaching with the confused mash-up of rap and hard rock on "Sleeping In The Middle Of The Bed", probably one of the sticking points at Warner's offices almost 15 years earlier. "Let's Take A Lifetime", though, reverts to the most run-of-the-mill soft rock, while "The Pull" sounds like it came out of a bad day for Stevie Nicks.

The band tries its hand at the jam format over the tribal percussion of "Plaid", slowing down into new-age atmospheres on "Cry For The Lost" and closing an overall ambiguous record with the pop-wave "The Show Must Go On". The album would probably have marked a real change of direction back in 1993, but in 2008 it sounds completely anachronistic.

At the start of 2009 Chicago welcome new drummer Drew Hester (ex-Foo Fighters) to temporarily replace Imboden, and more significantly let go of Bill Champlin, who is replaced by Lou Pardini (Santana, Stevie Wonder). The band sets out on tour in 2010 with The Doobie Brothers, playing a special date at the end of July 2011 at the Red Rocks Amphitheatre with the Colorado Symphony Orchestra.

In October the band returns to the studio with Phil Ramone to put out a second Christmas album, Chicago XXXIII: O Christmas Three, opened by a slowed-down version of “Wonderful Christmas Time” (Paul McCartney) featuring special guest Dolly Parton on vocals. From the cheerful rock'n'roll of “Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree” (Johnny Marks) to the traditional folk tune “I Saw Three Ships”, performed together with America, the album essentially carries on the sonic direction of its predecessor. “Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays” reworks NSYNC, marking Lou Pardini's debut on lead vocals, while “It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year” takes on a calypso flavor.

Worth noting is the original Loughnane composition “Rockin' And Rollin' On Christmas Day”, featuring a soul-R&B arrangement thanks to Steve Cropper's guitar contribution.

In May 2011, longtime Chicago fans welcome the double live album Chicago XXXIV: Live In '75, recorded at the end of June 1975 at the Capital Center in Largo, Maryland. Ironically, when Lamm introduces “Beginnings” he talks to the crowd about nostalgia, in the mid-1970s. It's anyone's guess what effect this has on a 2011 listener, probably a bittersweet sensation from a Jurassic era. But Chicago XXXIV is a genuine record, one that sends older generations soaring on the original band's boundless talent, from jazz-rock gems (“Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?”) to the furious rides of “25 Or 6 To 4” and “I'm A Man”. The album's real gem is the version of the Beatles-esque “Got To Get You Into My Life”, opened by horns and driven by Seraphine's martial rhythm.

In 2012 a new tour is organized with the Doobie Brothers, introducing new percussionist Daniel de los Reyes, later replaced by his brother (ex-Santana) Walfredo Reyes Jr. In 2013, Chicago XXXV: The Nashville Sessions is released, recorded several years earlier at The Sound Kitchen studios between tour stops. The project is at the very least curious, a new recording of the band's past classics, a way of revisiting the historic songs without actually overhauling them as the title might suggest.

The band returns to work on a new album between 2013 and 2014, with new producer Hank Linderman mixing together various audio tracks recorded separately by the different band members via a special web portal. Chicago choose to roll out several singles gradually starting in September 2013, before releasing Chicago XXXVI: Now almost a year later, in the summer of 2014. The album opens with the danceable soft-pop of “Now”, followed by the eighties flavor of “More Will Be Revealed”. The patriotic “America” sweeps away the old socio-political critiques, while “Crazy Happy” features a bland trip-pop-flavored sample. “Free At Last” returns to funky territory, with Scheff unleashing yet another AOR ballad in “Love Lives On”. While “Watching All The Colors” shows a tired exotic side, the guitar attack of “Naked In The Garden Of Allah” opens up a convincing Middle Eastern synth groove.

At the end of January 2014, Chicago perform two concerts with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. The resulting double live album, Chicago At Symphony Hall, comes out in February 2015, revisiting the great classics in orchestral form. It's an enjoyable record, featuring an acoustic interlude (“Will You Still Love Me?”, “Wake Up Sunshine” and “Look Away”), a reprise of the suite “Ballet For A Girl In Buchannon” and an excellent drum solo on “I'm A Man”.

After the original lineup's induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the group goes back on tour with Earth, Wind & Fire, before Jason Scheff's departure in October 2016. The bassist and singer is replaced by fellow musician Jeff Coffey (ex-Don Felder), while saxophonist Ray Herrmann takes over from Parazider, who only retires from live performances. These are years of settling into a new lineup, as Tris Imboden also leaves in early 2018 to focus on his family. Surprisingly, Coffey also quits, worn down by the constant touring, and is replaced by Neil Donell, already a vocalist with the cover band Brass Transit. Brett Simons then takes over on bass, while percussionist Walfredo Reyes Jr. is promoted to drums.

In April 2018, Chicago: VI Decades Live (This Is What We Do) is released, a collection of the group's live performances, including their set at the Isle of Wight Festival in 1970. After hiring a new percussionist, “Ray” Ramon Yslas, the band puts out yet another live album, Chicago II: Live On Soundstage, a full staging of the entire second album. That same year, Parazaider is officially dropped from the lineup, while Chicago: Greatest Hits Live is released.

After this glut of live albums, 2019 brings the band's third Christmas-themed record, Chicago XXXVII: Chicago Christmas, this time featuring original songs written by the band. It marks a return to success for Chicago, albeit limited to the Billboard Holiday Albums Sales Chart. At the end of 2021, a new guitarist, Tony Obrohta, is brought in to replace Howland after a serious car accident. Lou Pardini also leaves, having only partly taken part in the recording sessions for the new album Chicago XXXVIII: Born For This Moment, released in July 2022 on Bmg with production by Joe Thomas. The album thus arrives eight years after their previous effort, Now, opening with the title track, which moves between jazzy atmospheres and the usual soft-pop. The delicate arpeggio of “If This Is Goodbye” is enriched by vocal harmonies with a boy-band whiff, while “Firecracker” is at least given new life by a funky tone.

Decidedly long — nearly 60 minutes of music — the album has its share of embarrassing moments (“Someone Needed Me The Most”), as well as flashes of pure nostalgia, such as the acoustic intro of “Our New York Time”, which recalls “Beginnings”. “Safer Harbours” attempts a certain orchestral delicacy, followed by the new funky-jazz number “Crazy Idea”. “Make A Man Outta Me” is Howland's final contribution before his departure, with “She's Right” featuring some fine percussion work from new member Yslas.

The truth is that little remains of the original group: Chicago has effectively become a brand that outlives its own ever-rotating members. “The Mermaid (Sereia Do Mar)” experiments with bossa nova, while “You've Got To Believe” returns to an 80s sound for no apparent reason. The modern closer “House On The Hill” tries to project Chicago's sound into a new era, but what remains, in 2022, is a deep nostalgia for one of the most explosive bands of the 1970s.

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