Paramount+ Goes Behind the Music In a Surprisingly Dark Soft Rock Doc

The next time you’re at a drugstore, pay attention to the music being piped through the aisles. Those pleasant background tunes may not sound menacing, but sometimes, they’ve got histories that would make Ozzy Osbourne blush. That’s one of the fascinating revelations in Sometimes When We Touch, Paramount+’s new docuseries about the rise, fall, and rebirth of soft rock.

To be clear, the show is not revolutionizing the music doc genre. (It debuted on January 3, but some premieres can pass even TV critics by.) Charting the careers of sentimental ’70s and ‘80s acts like Air Supply, Christopher Cross, and Ray Parker Jr., it follows the standard Behind the Music formula: Old-timers talk about their glory days and how they were certain they’d last forever. They discuss the hard times, after some new style pushed them off the charts, and they wrap it up with a hopeful look to the future. But as familiar as this might be, the series has a few ingredients that give the recipe a kick.

First is the willingness to go dark. Several musicians and music journalists discuss how soft rock’s eventual collapse was rooted in a hyper-masculine rejection of men who made vulnerable records. There are damning montages of old movies and newspaper articles all but threatening violence against Barry Manilow, Michael McDonald, and their ilk. While many stories have been told about how the disco backlash was rooted in racism, homophobia, and misogyny, it’s enlightening to consider that similar prejudices hounded The Doobie Brothers, too.

At times, though, the trouble came from inside the house. In the show’s frankest interview, Toni Tennille, half of the duo Captain & Tennille, discusses her loveless marriage with Daryl “The Captain” Dragon. While they were gaining millions of fans with bouncy tunes like “Love Will Keep Us Together,” she was going home to a miserable private life, utterly devoted to a man who was incapable of showing her affection. It’s hard to hear their hit “The Way I Want to Touch You” in the same way after she says she wrote it as a plea for her husband to be nice to her. Similarly, Canadian balladeer Dan Hill alters the context of his hit “Sometimes When We Touch” — yes, the one that gives the series its name — when he describes the slightly obsessive relationship that inspired it.

But despite these dark underbellies, many of these songs remain incredibly satisfying. The show’s other standout trait is its eagerness to ask why. Instead of ironically shrugging at the recent boom in “yacht rock” revival tours, director and executive producer Lauren Lazin digs into what makes this music work for a new generation. This includes both a sharp analysis of our need for gentle art and a sophisticated segment on the melodic structures and production techniques in songs like Elton John’s “Daniel” or Toto’s “Africa.” This is where industry interviewees like producer L.A. Reid and Bangles frontwoman Susannah Hoffs prove invaluable: They have the professional expertise to explain what the average listener might only be able to sense.

Best of all, Sometimes When We Touch drops all this knowledge with a generous sense of fun. The narration is lighthearted but not snarky. The soundtrack respects the breadth of the late ’70s and early ’80s by playing classics alongside forgotten hits like Stephen Bishop’s “On and On.” And all the talking heads, whether they were making this music or grew up listening to it, acknowledge the ludicrous moments while celebrating the transcendent ones. That’s just the balance the series needs to capture an era that produced both cheesy variety shows and timeless ballads in record numbers.

Sometimes When We Touch is now streaming on Paramount+. Join the discussion about the show in our forums.

Mark Blankenship has been writing about arts and culture for twenty years, with bylines in The New York Times, Variety, Vulture, Fortune, and many others. You can hear him on the pop music podcast Mark and Sarah Talk About Songs.