If you didn’t pick up on the theme from my first Yacht Rock installment, if you want to plot a course to a treasure trove of Yacht Rock classics you need smooth seas.

But while the motion of that ocean is the final, dramatic clue that reveals a Yacht Rock classic like its pulling the mask off a Scooby Doo villain, there are a lot of little, more subtle clues found in the identifiers that we say make a song a lock for the genre along our search. 

So let’s plot a course to success – or failure – and talk theme, family tree, and time period to see where the siren of the seas calls us to FM radio gold, and where she dashes some of our other favorite ear worms on the rocky coastline. 

Does All Yacht Float?

In Apocalypse Now we are famously warned to “never get out of the boat,” but one thing we have to establish early on is that Yacht Rock indeed gets out of the boat.

The founders could have picked any identifying image to define this genre, but proved they had mastered the feel of the music by matching it up with an uppity boat trip. Try to rename it. You can’t. Because when you listen to it, nothing fits the music like the term Yacht Rock. But we know its not all about boats, even though a fair number of our favorites bask in the sunshine, rocking gently in the waves.

When it comes to maritime purity, “Brandy” is the closest thing Yacht Rock has to offer. It is also the first rule breaker, so its a perfect example to begin with. The 1972 Looking Glass classic shares the story of Brandy, who is indeed a fine girl, but just can’t keep her sailor from the sea. 

It’s smooth, but like Cheez Whiz decorating a Club Cracker. Thick with a salt mist full of maritime symbolism and a story as vivid as any favorite tune, we all share the very same images of this song as it plays out on the streets of a darkened port town. It’s brilliant. And it is Yacht, even though it’s a bit early in the timeline, and by a band from New Jersey.

Obvious Yacht classics like “Sailing” by Christopher Cross, Bertie Higgins’ “Key Largo,” Jay Ferguson’s “Thunder Island,” and Stephen Bishop’s “On and On” give buoyancy to the nautical theme, but when you look at the canon of Yacht Rock it’s pretty clear that beaches and waves take a backseat to one very important overriding theme – dudes losing, musing about, or longing for women.

From Paul Davis’s “Cool Nights” to “Him” by Rupert Holmes, and Michael McDonald’s “I keep forgettin’,” or Ace’s “How Long,” the message is clear. I really want to be your man, but I forgot to tell you, or you forgot to remember. Something like that.

While some tunes cling to Yacht Rock like love has jumped ship, it’s not always about their sappy message. Sometimes it’s just the right blend of bad pickup line and the subconscious urge to dance and sparkle.

Who’s Your Party Captain?

The crew that christened Yacht Rock took a bold step when they narrowed the genre to the extent they required some serious 23andMe at-home DNA results to prove membership in the yacht club, along with the exclusive requirements of release date and geographic origin.

I think the family tree test – all being at least cousins to members of Toto or stepchildren of Donald Fagan – and the requirement they be west coast caused me the most sea sickness. Don’t get me wrong, I like how they showed their work. The data is there, it is sound, and it allows a unique analysis and fairly pure bloodline. 

But it just doesn’t pass the dance floor test. That’s where you go back to the most innocent of all Yacht Rock criteria and ask, “how does it feel?” Do you move without consciously deciding to do so? Can you suddenly see yourself on the dance floor, looking as cool as a dancer on Soul Train, only to realize you were really an extra in Saturday Night Fever that ended up on the cutting room floor?

That’s where Dr. Hook takes the stage. By the late 1970s, the band known for its shameless plug for some pub from Rolling Stone had turned itself into a souped up prototype of a Yacht Rock version of the Six Million Dollar Man. “We have the capability to make the world’s first perfect Yacht Rock band. Smoother, stickier, groovier.” And they were from New Jersey. There was no Yacht pedigree based on west-coast minglings or session work.

From 1978-1980, Dr. Hook released “Sharing the Night Together,” “When You’re In Love With a Beautiful Woman,” and “Sexy Eyes” practically perfecting the genre that hadn’t even been identified.

And they weren’t the only East Coast pirates of the new groove. Hall & Oates, the famous villains of the Yacht Rock comedy series have some seriously powerful Yacht Rock contributions in songs like “Sarah Smile,” “One on One,” and “I Can’t Go For That.” If you didn’t deny the duo membership because they came from Philly, you couldn’t find a reason to ban them.

The Little River Band cranked out a variety of very seaworthy tracks, led by “Reminiscing.” Being from down under just doesn’t seem like a good reason to deny them a port of call.

It’s a critical point, though, that songs can fail to meet key measurements and still make the cut, but to fail in all three – time, pedigree, and geographic origin – means there are some serious headwinds to overcome for inclusion. Maybe that’s me trying to maintain some hull integrity so the genre doesn’t sink while I’m picking at it, but consider “These Eyes” by The Guess Who. Great song, sounds pretty Yachty. But a release in 1969 by a Canadian Band that never really captured the Yacht Rock sound again is difficult to include.

In My Yacht Era

I considered other songs outside generation Yacht, trying my best to poke holes in what felt like a very artificial category for this style of music, but generally songs before 1974 and after 1982 definitely feel out of place. 

As an example, Bread’s 1970 signature anthem, “Make it with You” has nearly all the ingredients. It screams Yacht from the crow’s nest, but in the end I just don’t feel it. Something is off. It’s a little mellow, and more connected to Seals and Crofts and Dan Fogelberg than Christopher Cross and Kenny Loggins.

Seals and Crofts were likely a pre-Yacht gateway band. “Summer Breeze” (1972) is what you get when Walt Whitman decides to write a Yacht Rock song. If you tune out the lyrics it gets close, but it’s just too symbolic, and not enough straight up “Wanna come to my place?” 

But they plot a direct path – and family lineage – leading to England Dan and John Ford Coley’s 1976 Yacht classic “I’d Really Love to See You Tonight.” The Texas duo didn’t meet the geographic profile, but the forlorn, one-sided phone call is money, and the references to warm winds, beaches, and the stars kind of set the tone for Yacht Rock lyrics going forward. 

Yacht Rock largely ditched the symbolism of late 1960s rock and folk for a more unmistakable message of “Girl, you’re fine.”

Think about America’s “Sister Golden Hair,” released in 1975, and their later offering “You Can Do Magic” from 1982. The first is a classic. You really want it to fit. It’s so damn close. But I hear more folksy California surfer. 

Fast forward to “You Can Do Magic,” and all the Yacht pieces were in place. I mean, the video begins with a white-gloved hand tossing gold glitter into the darkness, and features the repeated refrain, “De-de-de-de-do-dit, do-do-do-do-do-dit,” highlighted percussion and a much more prominent piano than many of America’s hits that relied on an acoustic-forward guitar sound.

The line that blurs from the early 70s into Yacht Rock waters isn’t so subtle when we creep into the 80s. Much of what fans want to pile on to the boat from the 80s leads us to a shortage of life jackets on board, and that means a tragic end for some favorites.

The music of Simply Red is spectacular, but it is simply not Yacht. It’s smooth and sticky sweet, but no one really thinks it’s the same sound. Double’s “Captain of Her Heart” may have fooled you by mentioning a captain in the title, but again, it fails to make the cut. It just feels too 80s, and those of us who came of age in that decade feel a distinct break somewhere in there.

Take for example Jim Photoglo’s, “We Were Meant to be Lovers.” The guy’s name is Photoglo. If I were to make up a fictional Yacht Rock icon (now there’s an idea), Photoglo would be the name I make up. The voice, the music, the lyrics has this song chipping away at the Yacht Rock hierarchy, but a song from 1995? Yacht Rock songs were growing mustaches, legally drinking and casting votes for president when this song was born.

If you’re not seasick by now, let me know what you think of my selective enforcement of the rules of Yacht Rock, and watch for the final installment when we talk more about the music, talk through some tunes people regularly try to sneak on board, and finish up with a nod to the musicians and tunes that anchor the genre.