You May Be Right

Hey Zoo Freaks, the Zoo Crew has got Billy Joel cranking right now with "You May Be Right" off that 1980 Glass Houses album, and man does this one hit like a leather jacket slamming against a bar stool. You know the one that kicks off with that big old crash of glass shattering before the guitars and that sax from Richie Cannata come roaring in. Billy was tired of folks pegging him as just the mellow piano balladeer after all those smooth hits, so he decided to throw a rock at his own image, literally. The cover shows him ready to heave one through the window of his actual glass house out on Long Island in Cove Neck. He told folks in interviews that people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones? Well, he figured why not take chances. That sound at the start is him smashing right through the idea that he couldn't rock hard enough for the arena crowds he was headlining.

The story behind the song itself is pure wildman stuff, the kind of tale a biker might swap over beers after a long ride. Billy has talked about writing it one night after rolling home on his motorcycle in the pouring rain, no headlight, no streetlights, still in a suit, coming back from a bar around four in the morning. He should have been scattered all over the road, but he made it in one piece. His wife at the time, Elizabeth, looked at him and said he was out of his mind, that only a crazy man would have made it home alive. He just shrugged and said he was there, wasn't he? That exchange stuck with him and turned into the lines about riding in the rain, being told not to drive, making it home, and her saying that only proves he's insane. It fits right in with the rest of the lyrics where the guy owns being a lunatic, crashing parties, walking through tough neighborhoods like Bedford-Stuyvesant alone, and telling the girl she might just be looking for some of that madness after all. Billy has said it was one of those rockers meant to sound great live with raucous crowds, and he called the whole Glass Houses sessions some of the most fun he'd had recording up to that point.

He even listed "You May Be Right" as one of his personal top five favorites when he sat down with Stephen Colbert years later. That is high praise from a guy who usually leans toward the deeper cuts over the big hits. The song reached number seven on the charts here in the States and six up in Canada, and the album itself spent weeks at the top of the Billboard charts while winning him a Grammy for Best Male Rock Vocal Performance. Producer Phil Ramone put real work into getting that glass smash just right. They tried thin panes that didn't cut it, then went for thicker ones suspended and smashed with hammers, recording with multiple mics until they nailed the delayed crack and full crumble that kicks everything off. It even got used as the theme for that TV show Dave's World, though Southside Johnny handled the singing version, and the Chipmunks covered it on their punk album with Billy saying he thought that was great. It has popped up in movies and shows since, but the heart of it stays that defiant, carefree edge Billy was pushing on the record.

Speaking of how the Piano Man got rolling in the first place, Billy Joel came up the hard way out on Long Island. Born William Martin Joel in the Bronx back in 1949, the family moved to Hicksville where he started classical piano lessons around age four because his mom insisted. By the time the Beatles hit the Ed Sullivan Show in 1964, that was it for him. He saw those four guys who did not look like Hollywood types, playing their own songs, and he knew that was the path. He joined local bands like the Echoes, later the Lost Souls, doing British Invasion covers, then moved on to the Hassles for a couple of albums of blue-eyed soul in the late sixties. After that he formed the heavy organ duo Attila with the drummer, cutting one wild album before things fell apart. Along the way he boxed as an amateur, racking up a string of wins on the Golden Gloves circuit, something like twenty-two out of twenty-four, until a broken nose in the last fight convinced him the ring was not his future.

He dropped out of high school to chase the music full time, playing piano bars to help support the family after his folks split. A bad contract on his first solo album Cold Spring Harbor had him bailing to Los Angeles, where he played under the name Bill Martin in cocktail lounges, soaking up the stories that later fed into "Piano Man." A live tape of "Captain Jack" got Columbia Records interested, Clive Davis signed him, and the rest started rolling with that 1973 album. From those early band days through the motorcycle rides and the rock records, Billy has always had that mix of the tough outer edge and the songwriting heart. You can dig into more of the story and the music over at his official site billyjoel.com, or catch the latest on his Facebook, Instagram, and X accounts. Fans keep the conversation going strong in groups like the Fans of the Piano Man - Billy Joel Fan Club and Billy Joel: Completely Retold, swapping stories and setlists just like we do here on THE ZOO. So keep it cranked, Zoo Freaks, and ride that crazy a little longer.