Cold Spring Harbor is of value chiefly because it presents the performing and composing genius of Billy Joel in its fledgling stages…. [There] are intermittent flashes of brilliance, musical foreshadowings of things to come, and hints of the influences that were to shape the man's grander accomplishments. (p. 17)

"She's Got A Way" is very unexceptional. It's a typical romantic tune, with rhymes that are extremely obvious from beginning to end….

The fast-paced "Everybody Loves You Now" is quite a bit better and might even be worth resurrecting in the current Joel repertoire. It is far less of a paean than the first two tunes [on the album]; it is the first example we'd yet heard of the very telling Joel sardonicism….

[The] lyric is smug and accusatory….

The attitude is mature, and likewise there is an inkling of a maturing talent at work here. (p. 19)

["Falling Of The Rain"] gets to be a very lyrically ambitious parable; the two characters come to stand for Billy and a girl he's pursuing. His efforts appear unsuccessful, and she goes away. "The falling of the rain" would seem to represent the natural passage of time, real life in essence. He can't seem to acknowledge it, and that's where he's beaten.

No one has talked much about Billy Joel as a symbolist, and maybe there is no reason to take such a discussion very far. There is symbolism in "Falling Of The Rain," however. The fantastic imagery of the first verses is far more gripping than the real-life situation he later introduces. A potentially interesting tale becomes one about which we are likely to remark "Oh, is that all?" (pp. 19-20)

As he was to do frequently in his career with Columbia [Records], Billy ends his album on a quiet note with a song that suggests a need for temporary solitude, a sense of direction, and general rebirth. The soft "Got To Begin Again" is eerily prophetic. A fledgling talent has come to the end of his first album, a good experience and a nice introduction to the business, but one that was not about to make him a household word. (pp. 21-2)

"Piano Man" [the title cut of his second album] draws much of its inspiration from Billy's days as a Los Angeles lounge entertainer…. The cast of characters drawn in "Piano Man" includes many representative types whose real-life counterparts probably spent a lot of time slumped over Joel's keyboard in the L.A. bar. The piano man's locale seems to be a less than cheery one, and the pianist plays the role of psychiatrist to a larger extent than the proverbial bartender. (p. 26)

"Piano Man" shows early on that Joel has great strength as a teller of tales, that he vividly brings characters and situations to life. Microcosmic as the world of the "Piano Man" might be, the anguish and dissatisfaction in that piano bar are universal. In this song, Billy creates a kind of stationary Ship of Fools….

["You're My Home"] is the song which started Joel's reputation as a romantic, even though that is only one portion of his nature….

The basis of the song is an endearing if old romantic cliché. Billy, the boy with wanderlust and perhaps even no fixed address, has at least one place he can call home, and that place is his woman. (p. 27)

With its very simple instrumentation and hardly new premise, "You're My Home" might just be sappy stuff if it weren't for some clever literary references … and clear indications that these are flesh-and-blood humans that do a lot more than just pine for each other and get misty-eyed…. This is an adult love story about real people; there's no ludicrous "oh come now" idealism. It's not an ivory tower relationship; it's street-people stuff.

The closing piece on side one, "The Ballad of Billy The Kid," is absolutely terrific….

In a superb lyric worthy of any old Ned Buntline dime-novel myth, Joel tells the step-by-step saga of the young and small fellow whose "daring life of crime made him a legend in his time."…

Joel the storyteller has a good sense of detail, making us appreciate Billy the Kid as a loner and a man who was capable of generating some weird form of respect. His inevitable down-fall assumes some dimension of tragedy, and the hopeless misfit finally finds a home [in a Boot Hill grave]…. (p. 29)

Joel has a deft sense of timing and drama. And his fascination with the late William Bonney (Billy the Kid) becomes explicable. Before the last notes of The Kid's saga can be heard, almost as soon as he is nestling into that Boot Hill grave, this becomes the ballad of Billy Joel…. (pp. 29-30)

The Bonney-Joel analogy comes suddenly and without warning but seems not at all out of place; it is very striking….

"The Ballad of Billy The Kid" is a stunner; who could ask for anything more? Its sound is completely fresh, not a retread or derivative of too familiar material. Joel's saga is strong, evocative, and gripping. (p. 30)

"If I Only Had The Words" is very bland from a musical standpoint and all too obvious and mundane from a lyrical one…. [The lyrics] are hardly groundbreaking, and hardly worthy of a man who has shown himself to be a sharp wordsmith many times on this album. Detractors could point to this song to say that Billy Joel is nothing special. What they should do is just skip this song and advance to his better material. (pp. 31, 34)

The capper on the Piano Man album is "Captain Jack."…

Much of Joel's reputation for sardonicism and biting social commentary, often directed at suburban lifestyles, found its origins in "Captain Jack." It is unrelenting and pretty nasty. As he sings "Captain Jack," disdain seems to be Billy Joel's major motivator….

Billy, as he often does with his lyrics, quickly establishes the place, the time, the character, and the mood….

It's boring suburbia, where the kid's only escape is to … voyeuristically view the freaks. What might be a dream for some—split-level life on the outer fringes of the metropolis—is, in "Captain Jack," painted as the most dismal, bleak, and useless of existences. (p. 34)

It is never made [clear] exactly who or what Captain Jack is, but that's not important. Indeed, it is better that he/it remain undefined and therefore universally applicable. Captain Jack is whoever or whatever this twenty-one-year-old needs to get him to the state of consciousness that will at least temporarily blot out his miseries. Clearly, the possibility that it is a drug is very much there, but it needn't necessarily be that. As a salve to all sorts of youthful anxieties, Captain Jack is a seventies counterpart to Mr. Tambourine Man….

Joel's distaste for suburban blandness is well publicized and quite justifiable for a songwriter who has experienced Levittown firsthand. As far as spitting on its subject is concerned, "Captain Jack" is right up there with Bob Dylan's "Ballad of a Thin Man" and John Lennon's "Working Class Hero." "Captain Jack" is electrifying. A direct frontal assault lyrically and an epic musically, it is intended to startle and it does. (p. 35)

Streetlife Serenade is quite clearly his weakest Columbia album. Still and all, it is not a bad album…. There are problems with ["Streetlife Serenader"]. Most of the lyrics are not grammatical sentences but a string of adjective-noun combinations…. Despite these gobs of information, we miss an overall picture—like, for instance, what is the real point of this song? We know that this streetlife serenader performs to his utmost and barely scratches out a living—that's in there somewhere—but the actual thesis here seems to be absent. (p. 41)

["The Great Suburban Showdown"] is obviously an addition to Billy's portfolio as suburban chronicler, but the approach here is quite different from that of, say, "Captain Jack." That song was an out-and-out attack; no empathy was shared. On "The Great Suburban Showdown," however, the protagonist is feeling the pain of re-encountering wretched blandness, and he is expressing it in such a wide-open manner as to invite plenty of "you ain't kidding, that's just how it is" responses. Here, Billy Joel gets a response from way down deep; that's certainly a measure of success. (p. 42)

"Roberta" is the kind of song one might let slip by without a close listen. But it is really remarkable. It is the only seventies popular song that comes to mind about a man's devotion to a particular prostitute, and certainly the only one that is offered up in such a hallowed framework…. Billy's dedication to Roberta is almost religious. Juxtaposed with so secular a subject, the sacred treatment is quite amusing. This isn't exactly subtlety, but "Roberta" shows that Billy Joel is capable of marvelous irony, something we hadn't previously seen a great deal of in his compositions….

Joel's aggressive stance on "The Entertainer" is that of a man who in his profession can state, "I know just where I stand." The road from "Piano Man" to "The Entertainer" has been a rocky one, with plenty of lessons learned along the way.

This may be the strongest lyric on Streetlife Serenade. Considering how quickly the song moves along, and how many truisms he tries to pack into the verses, it is amazing how Billy has managed to fit his message so masterfully into a regular metric scheme. (p. 43)

A truer picture of the dark side of pop stardom probably hasn't been written, although in the years since there have been many such attempts…. Billy Joel is never vague; he always takes a definite point of view. Here, with "The Entertainer," he has come up with the definitive song on the subject. (p. 46)

[On] side two, we begin to get indications that first-rate material for Streetlife Serenade was in short supply….

"Souvenir" features a sadly reflective Billy at the piano, chronicling the tangible reminiscences of someone's past—the post cards, the programs, the photographs. Not a joyful theme here—the notion is that life "slowly fades away." (p. 47)

Billy has tackled a number of subjects on Streetlife Serenade, so why not try mortality, even if it doesn't seem to fit into the overall scheme (is there one?). "Souvenir" is a mere tidbit, inoffensive, a lyrical denouement to the album (although one instrumental track follows). Bidding us soft adieu is okay, but it would have been better if heftier material were etched in our memories….

[While] Streetlife Serenade is nothing to get angry about, most of it is quite forgettable. (p. 48)

Turnstiles is such an enormous improvement over Streetlife Serenade that one would almost imagine Joel had emerged from some prolonged semi-comatose state. It is still primarily a songwriter's album; the emphasis is chiefly on words and basic melody, not the fully developed sound that would be heard on later albums.

That approach is fine, however, because the material Joel put together for Turnstiles is truly topnotch. Some of these songs are well on their way to becoming contemporary standards….

Turnstiles in part chronicles Billy's exodus from California and his return to his native New York. His impressions of both places, and the reasons for his move, provide the substance of many of the Joel compositions here. (p. 52)

["New York State Of Mind" is] a theme song for everyone who has any reason at all to love New York; so many specific glories of the place are itemized that there's a line in here for just about anyone….

"New York State Of Mind" is understandably a celebration of coming home. It is also true Tin Pan Alley stuff; skillfully composed and fresh as it may be, it still has a totally timeless quality. It wouldn't be a surprise if one were to hear that "New York State Of Mind" were written in the thirties or forties, when virtually all American popular music (the mainstream stuff, not cowboy songs, gospel, or Dixieland) was being written on the island of Manhattan. (p. 54)

There have been plenty of love songs written to the biggest city in the U.S.A., but not too many recently. "New York State Of Mind" is definitely the best one to come out of the seventies; the fact that so many Gothamites have taken it to heart is not surprising. But its significance goes beyond such local considerations; it is a classic composition about coming home, about touching base with the things by which one can measure oneself. That has a meaning for folks in Paducah, Peoria, Provo, and Pawtucket as well. (p. 56)

Generally, Turnstiles is more sympathetic than earlier Joel albums, reflecting perhaps some feeling of inner peace. "Angry Young Man" is the one reminder here of exactly how acerbic Billy can be. Still, it is nowhere near as scathing as, say, "Captain Jack." There is something in Billy's approach that suggests this "Angry Young Man" should be pitied a little….

[His] greatest joy seems to come from being known as what he is—an angry young man.

And how does Billy Joel feel about all this? We don't have to guess; he tells us straight out …:

  I believe I've passed the age of consciousness and righteous rage,
  I found that just surviving was a noble fight.
  I once believed in causes too,
  I had my pointless point of view,
  And life went on no matter who was wrong or right.

Those sentiments are common seventies postradical fallout, but expressed far better than most folks have been able to verbalize them. The angry young man, who seems to be operating with blinders on, cannot perceive certain realities, certain changes in time and situation. Events have no impact on him; they do not change his mind. And although Billy Joel can half-heartedly salute the angry one's honor, courage, fairness, and truth, the upshot of it is that this fellow is exceedingly tedious and will "go to the grave as an angry old man." (p. 58)

"Angry Young Man" ends quite suddenly and segues into "I've Loved These Days," to which its relationship is like day and night. "I've Loved These Days" is sedate, contemplative, and reflective, a looking back on the recent past….

"I've Loved These Days" is about living high—and ultimately empty. The singer and his woman are Cole Porter or Noel Coward types updated for the seventies. They haven't a care in the world …, their life is silk, chandeliers, champagne, cocaine, and caviar, all described in jaded detail by Billy. Such good fortune may be temporary and short-lived …, and increasing sloth, sleep, and body weight do dictate a change, but Joel can fondly state without regret, "I've loved these days."

"I've Loved These Days" has an exquisite set of lyrics; the life detailed here seems to be a dreamlike state. It is probably a mixture of fact and fantasy….

["I've Loved These Days"] possesses a unique kind of foggy beauty, merely a trace of sadness, and mainly a promise to begin again. It's a very accessible song.

The final track on Turnstiles is "Miami 2017 (Seen The Lights Go Out On Broadway)," which may be Billy Joel's only piece of recorded science-fiction…. [It] takes a few moments to glean exactly what he's telling us. The result is a colorful and vivid glimpse of life as it could be forty years or so down the line. (p. 59)

"Miami 2017" details the destruction of New York; however, it is a mystery yarn which leaves questions unanswered. For one, who are "They," the force that is orchestrating the devastation? And why are "They" doing it?…

The reasons behind all this remain cryptic, but that is the author's prerogative; he has still painted a fascinating scenario….

"Miami 2017" wraps up Turnstiles. Eight songs might not seem like enough, but one of the reasons you're left wanting more is because none of them have been clinkers. From the munificent "New York State Of Mind" to the frivolous "All You Wanna Do Is Dance" to the reflective "I've Loved These Days," Joel has tackled the widest scope of subjects and moods yet on any of his first three … albums. He was maturing artistically and personally. If his songwriting impressed a bit more than his musical execution—well, the difference is slight, The raw materials were there to be honed…. (p. 60)

There is no evidence of complacency on 52nd Street; there is no playing it safe. Joel confronts his material with the same freshness and fervor that got him his stardom in the first place. It is not uncommon for a superstar, right after he gets to that lofty pinnacle, to more or less tread water or run in place for another album or two—to regurgitate the same stuff that has proved popular in the past. Such a cop-out doesn't suit Billy Joel; he has got new things to say and new ways to say them. (p. 91)

"Big Shot" is a song of unbridled anger…. Joel's disdain for the kind of life led by this big shot could not be more strongly expressed, unless he were to go a step too far and suggest she slash her wrists. He doesn't do that, but "Big Shot" is a powerful commentary about young folks who attain sudden money and notoriety. Joel is part of that class, but clearly he does not subscribe to all of its pasttimes. (p. 94)

"Stiletto," which launches side two, is about a most deadly woman, a kind of Jackie the Ripper. Her cutting, described in gruesome detail by Billy, is purely metaphorical. No actual blood is shed, but her effect is probably just as devastating….

The knife-wielding metaphor continues throughout the entire song. Here's a woman who does serious, deep damage—more spiritual and emotional than physical—but is such a skillful manipulator that she always comes back and has little trouble reestablishing things status quo ante bellum….

"Stiletto" is a thoroughly realized undertaking; music and lyric work hand in hand to make Joel's theme as vivid as possible. Always interested in relationships, he is a frequent commentator on their dark side. And "Stiletto" seems to suggest that the one who allows his partner to perform such acts of mental cruelty is as much to blame as the one who is cruel. (p. 96)

The epic of 52nd Street is … "Until The Night." For some tastes, this track alone is worth the price of the record. (p. 100)

This may be his finest recorded song; it is certainly the one that best demonstrates the high level and variety of his musical abilities. (p. 105)

Peter Gambaccini, in his Billy Joel: A Personal File (reprinted by permission of Perigee Books; copyright © 1980 by Quick Fox), Quick Fox, 1979, 128 p. [the excerpt from Billy Joel's lyrics used here was taken from "Angry Young Man" (© 1976, 1978 Blackwood Music Inc. (BMI), words and music by Billy Joel; reprinted by permission)].