Take It Easy: The Ultimate Soft Rock Collection – A Stroll Down Memory Lane
So, you’ve stumbled upon Take It Easy: The Ultimate Soft Rock Collection, eh? Released in 2007 by Reader’s Digest (yeah, the same folks who sell those giant encyclopedias), this compilation is like a big ol’ mixtape from Australia that screams, “Hey, remember these tunes?” And trust me, you probably do. Packed with pop-rock bangers and soft rock gems, it’s less of an album and more of a time machine to when life felt simpler—and hair was bigger.
Now, let’s cut to the chase. With over 60 tracks—yes, SIXTY—it's hard not to find something that tickles your nostalgia bone. But if I had to pick two standouts, they’d be “Mr. Bojangles” and “Bette Davis Eyes.” Why? Well, hear me out.
First up, “Mr. Bojangles.” This tune always hits me right in the feels. It’s one of those songs where you think, “Oh cool, a happy little ditty about dancing!” But then BAM—you realize it’s actually kinda sad. Like, we’re talking about a street performer who’s lost everything but still manages to bust a move. Every time I hear it, I picture some guy tap-dancing under a streetlamp while his dog watches with judgmental eyes. Heartbreaking AND toe-tapping? That’s talent.
Then there’s “Bette Davis Eyes.” Oh man, Kim Carnes really brought her A-game here. If you don’t know this song, go listen to it immediately—or crawl out from under whatever rock you’ve been living under. It’s sultry, mysterious, and just plain catchy as hell. Plus, how can you resist lyrics like “She’s got Greta Garbo stand-off sighs”? Honestly, it makes me want to strut around in oversized sunglasses and pretend I’m too good for everyone. Which, let’s face it, we all need sometimes.
The rest of the album? Solid gold. From the breezy vibes of “Margaritaville” to the emotional gut-punch of “Angel of the Morning,” it’s basically a buffet of earworms. Sure, a few tracks might drag a bit (cough “In The Year 2525”), but overall, it’s a solid playlist for road trips, lazy Sundays, or convincing yourself you’re chill enough to own a record player.
Here’s the kicker though: listening to this album made me realize something profound. Back in the day, soft rock wasn’t just music—it was therapy. These songs didn’t scream at you; they whispered. They didn’t demand attention—they earned it. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why they stuck around. Or maybe it’s because nobody could say no to a sax solo. Who knows?
Anyway, whether you’re reliving your youth or discovering these classics for the first time, Take It Easy: The Ultimate Soft Rock Collection is worth a spin. Just don’t blame me if you end up crying in your car to “The First Cut Is The Deepest.” Happens to the best of us.
