When I was in my teens, guy bands dominated the music scene. They were nothing like the sweet-voiced, air-brushed boy bands popular today. Guys cranking out hits in the ‘60s and ‘70s were…well…more masculine. A couple of my favorites were Gary Puckett & the Union Gap, and the Grass Roots, and for a few years their songs gave young guys tips on what it meant to be a man.

Though I’m a good half-century past my teens, I’ve noticed something about the enduring connection I have to those bands. Every so often I thin out my CD collection because I have this crazy rule that I shouldn’t own more than a hundred at one time. I decide which singers or groups I don’t think I’ll listen to again, but when I come to my Grass Roots or Union Gap CDs, I can’t imagine getting rid of them. There’s something about their music that defines my coming of age.

Those bands and others were role models for lots of us. After seeing the Beatles take over the world, many young boys taught themselves a few guitar chords or how to bang a drum. I took up the piano, which turned out to be uncool for our makeshift bands, but some of the luckier kids got to play at a school dance or two. Dedicated musicians caught a break and became regionally popular, playing their state fairs or opening for a nationally known group. Those with real talent might have drawn attention from a record label looking to launch the next music idol. I imagine that’s what happened for the Grass Roots and Gary’s Union Gap.

To survive in the hit-or-miss music industry, those generic guy bands needed something unique. For Gary Puckett and his boys, their hit song titles made it clear what they were selling: “Young Girl,” “This Girl is a Woman Now,” “Woman, Woman,” Lady Willpower.” Gary’s pop-friendly voice was laced with a touch of soul and he used it to serenade young females anxious to grow up. “Lady Willpower”:

“Did no one ever tell you the facts of life
Well there's so much you have to learn
and I would gladly teach you…”

Those suggestive songs were like instruction manuals for us teens. Other than one watered down lecture in health class, they were how we learned about sex. Hyper-curious about the mating game, it wasn’t uptight science teachers who gave us what we needed; it was song lyrics.

“This girl walked in dreams
playing in a world of her own
This girl was a child
existing in a playground of stone
Then one night her world was changed
Her life and dreams were rearranged
and she would never be the same again…”

Lots of girls took those words to heart, slow dancing to them, melting in their boyfriend’s arms. Though my interest in sex was different than most guys, from my perch on a bench along the gymnasium walls I could feel the seductive energy generated by Gary’s voice.

I was more inclined to hit the dance floor when the deejay switched to the Grass Roots, who offered a whole different message. With songs like “Temptation Eyes,” “Midnight Confessions,” and “Sooner or Later,” the Grass Roots led the pack of guy bands who specialized in high-octane tunes. If you’re not familiar with the Grass Roots, here’s a sample: “Sooner or Later”

There were eight or ten Grass Roots hits just like that one, and all of them had a single purpose: to work up a guy’s fever. Couples were dancing to those songs, too, but so were us solo boys, who used the gym floor as a launching pad, reaching for the ceiling. Reaching for something yet to be discovered.

Unlike the Union Gap’s sentimental lyrics, Grass Roots songs concentrated on the hard work of winning a girlfriend:

“All of the lonely nights, waiting for you to come, longing to hold you tight

But I’d wait a million years, walk a million miles, cry a million tears

I’d swim the deepest sea, just to have you near me…”

Add blaring horns, a pulsating organ and a driving drumbeat, and song after Grass Roots song ignited the testosterone in pubescent boys. Each one would build in intensity and then, finally, with the chorus—which was often just the song title screamed over and over—the tension was released. After achieving what sounded like a musical orgasm to me, the only place for the song to go was the next stanza, where it again built to the chorus.

Deejays who knew their business strung several high intensity songs together, working guys into a frenzy. When the time was right, they’d slip on a slow song and sweaty teens fell into each other’s embrace. Who knows how many babies were conceived after listening to the convincing messages of guy bands.

Somehow, in my own awkward way, I absorbed those powerful songs. They helped me understand who I was. Most days, I don’t think about them much, but every once in a while I need to hear a contemplative Gary Puckett ballad or a Grass Roots rocker. Without fail, they reconnect me to the invincible feelings of my youth. That’s reason enough to hold on to my guy band CDs.