Fogelberg
A girlfriend introduced me to Dan Fogelberg in 1974; he had been around for a couple of years before then, but I hadn’t heard him. At the time I was locked into a different sort of sound, something louder and trippier, and I glossed over his work when it came up in rotation on my AOR station. It took Gwen, with her folk guitar and crystalline voice, to turn my hearing around.
I saw him on stage just before the release of “Nether Lands”. It wasn’t a big production, just Fogelberg, a couple of guitars and a grand piano. He was in great form, and the show was magnificent. I remember being astonished at how much stronger his voice was in person than the thin instrument captured on vinyl. That year he, James Taylor and Richie Havens showed me how a single person with a guitar could hold a room spellbound.
“Nether Lands”, with its cinematic scope, remains among my favorite albums, and I still argue with friends that “Captured Angel” never got an even shake critically.
Dan Fogelberg lost a long battle with prostate cancer on Sunday; he was 56.
Jackson Browne remembers Fogelberg at Rolling Stone.
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