Daily writing prompt

What’s a song that always puts you in a good mood?

View all responses

I am a Yacht Rock homer.

I don’t say that with embarrassment. I say it with the calm confidence of a man who knows exactly what he likes and is no longer pretending otherwise.

When I’m in the car, I will often put on the definitive Yacht Rock playlist on Spotify and just let it roll. Mostly. I will admit I skip a lot of the songs I’ve never heard, because apparently even my commitment to smooth music has limits. But for the most part, I let it play, and it almost always puts me in a pretty good mood.

There are plenty of songs on that playlist that can do the job.

Kenny Loggins’ “Heart to Heart.” Christopher Cross’ “Arthur’s Theme.” The Doobie Brothers’ “Minute by Minute.” Steely Dan’s “Deacon Blues.”

Those are not songs so much as warm lighting with a rhythm section. They have a way of smoothing out the edges of the day. Traffic feels slightly less offensive. Errands feel a little less like punishment. Even the guy who cuts you off without using a turn signal seems marginally less deserving of immediate judgment.

But no matter how many great songs come through that playlist, one always rises above the rest for me.

“Rosanna.”

That probably won’t surprise anyone who knows me very well. Toto has been my favorite band since Toto IV, and I don’t mean that casually. I love the band. I love the musicianship. I love the harmonies. I love the fact that their songs can sound effortless while being played by people who are doing things most musicians would have to sit down and study for three weeks before even attempting.

But “Rosanna” is different.

It doesn’t ask permission to put me in a good mood. It just does it.

That opening groove comes in, and suddenly the world is a little lighter. The famous Jeff Porcaro shuffle has this strange magic to it. It moves without rushing. It swings without showing off. It feels like somebody took joy, put it behind a drum kit, and gave it perfect timing.

Then the rest of the song builds around it. The piano. The bass. The horns. The vocals. The little flourishes that most bands would never think to add because they would already be out of ideas. Toto wasn’t out of ideas. Toto usually sounded like they had extra ideas stacked in the hallway in case anyone needed one.

And that chorus?

Come on.

There is no dignified way to hear that chorus and stay completely still. Maybe you don’t dance. Maybe you don’t sing out loud. Maybe you pretend to be above all that because you are a grown adult with responsibilities and bills and lower back pain.

But somewhere inside, something is moving.

I already loved the song about as much as a person can love a song, but recently I got a little bonus reason to appreciate it even more.

I had the chance to meet Bill Schnee, the legendary music producer, and he told me a story about Toto. Shortly after “Rosanna” was tearing up the charts, he was with David Paich and said something along the lines of, “How does it feel to know you’ve written the best song you’ll ever write?”

He said later he probably shouldn’t have said that.

Paich, understandably, pushed back. His response was basically, no, he was going to write a lot of songs better than this.

Which is exactly the kind of thing you would expect a great songwriter to say. You can’t live forever in the song you just wrote. You have to believe the next one might be even better.

But years later, according to Schnee, Paich came back to him and said, in effect, “You know that thing you said about me writing the best song I’d ever write? I think you were right.”

I love that story.

Not because David Paich didn’t write plenty of brilliant music. He did. Toto’s catalog is loaded with songs I love. But there is something wonderful about the idea that even the person who helped create “Rosanna” could eventually look back and recognize that there was something special about it. Something that didn’t just work commercially, though it certainly did that. Something that didn’t just show off musical excellence, though it absolutely does that.

Something that lasted.

That’s what a good mood song does. It doesn’t necessarily solve anything. It doesn’t fix the plumbing, grade the essays, lower the electric bill, or make the dog stop barking at a leaf blowing across the yard. It just gives your spirit a little room to breathe.

For a few minutes, the weight lifts.

That’s one of the great gifts of music. A song can become a kind of emotional shortcut. You hear the first few notes, and your brain remembers how to smile before you have time to argue with it. You don’t have to analyze it. You don’t have to explain it. The song has already done the work.

“Rosanna” does that for me.

It is not my only good mood song. There are others. Plenty of them. The Yacht Rock playlist is full of songs that make the day feel a little smoother, a little warmer, and a little less determined to wear me down.

But “Rosanna” still rises above the rest.

Some songs age.

Some songs endure.

And some songs still walk into the room, hit that groove, and make the day better before the first verse even starts.

“Rosanna” is one of those.