Steely Dan's 'micro moments'
Indexing the split seconds of pure bliss in the Becker-Fagen catalog
Listen to any album repeatedly for decades, and the little things will have a funny way of taking on outsize importance. You might notice a curious element buried in the fade, a ghostly vocalization or instrumental flourish tucked away deep in the background. You end up looking forward to something as slight as how an individual note is played, or the unusual way a lyric comes out of the singer’s mouth.
Because Walter Becker and Donald Fagen famously sweated the small stuff in the studio, it’s understood that anything you hear on a Steely Dan record is there on purpose. Every part has been labored over, tweaked, discussed, considered to the point of madness. Even the rare apparent accident, such as drummer Steve Gadd’s well-known stick click in his solo on “Aja,” remains there only because Becker and Fagen determined that it be kept.
Recently I began taking note of my favorite Steely Dan “micro moments”—the little things I always find myself anticipating, the brief passages that make me lean in or crank the volume. To better grasp the concept, consider the example of “Kid Charlemagne.” Larry Carlton’s guitar solo is, of course, a classic Dan moment. But it’s his concluding fret tap, from 3:04 to 3:07, that is a prime micro moment—three seconds that make you go, Holy shit.
Hundreds of such moments are peppered throughout the Dan discography. Below, in no particular order, I’ve inventoried a dozen of them, with the related clips embedded alongside for reference. And while there is certainly no shortage of extraordinary bits on the band’s live albums and bootlegs, not to mention Becker and Fagen’s respective solo albums, for this exercise I’ve focused solely on Steely Dan’s nine studio LPs.
In the comments below, please share your own personal favorites.
Song: “Green Earrings”
Interval: 2:02 to 2:08
Honestly, folks, there may not be a better six seconds in the Steely Dan catalog. After three deft strikes of the hi-hat from Bernard Purdie, Denny Dias kicks off his guitar solo with a choice pinch harmonic. “In and out and in nobody’s way,” Purdie has said of this fill. “It’s out of the way—and it works every time.”
Song: “Babylon Sisters”
Interval: 4:41 to 5:10
Turn that jungle music down and concentrate on the bass clarinets from Gaucho’s opener. Whatever Mr. Steely Dan has gotten himself into this time—some sort of skeevy beachside ménage à trois, it appears—the deep, burbling woodwinds, like rising dread, gradually become more prominent, making it clear that our boy is wading deeper into the morally questionable muck. Past the point of no return, he’s now in danger of drowning in a swamp of his own making.