Summary
“Teaching an Old Dog New Tricks” (1977, Chrysalis CHR 1146) is one of those quietly brilliant singer‑songwriter LPs that crate‑diggers love to “discover” and then insist everyone else hear. English songwriter Philip Goodhand‑Tait pours his seasoned craft into this record, blending soft rock, gentle folk, and literate pop into a warm, analog hug of a listen.

About the Artist
Before stepping fully into the spotlight, Goodhand‑Tait was the pen behind late‑60s hits for Love Affair, including “A Day Without Love” and “Bringing On Back the Good Times.”
By the mid‑70s, he’d moved from behind‑the‑scenes songwriter to cult solo artist, releasing a run of refined albums on Chrysalis. “Teaching an Old Dog New Tricks” arrived after years of honing his storytelling style, when he was already a veteran of studios, tours, and publishing deals—very much the “old dog” of the title.

About the Record
This album sits at the mature end of his 70s catalogue. The arrangements are smoother than his earlier, barer records, yet still intimate.
Expect mellow tempos, piano‑led melodies, and unshowy but meticulous musicianship. Lyrically, he leans into themes of experience: aging gracefully, second chances, and the small negotiations of love and friendship.
It didn’t storm the charts, but has since grown into a collector favorite—often praised as one of his most complete and consistent sets.

About the Cover
The Chrysalis-era artwork keeps things understated, very much in line with the music: no bombast, just a quietly confident 70s design that lets the songs do the talking.
That restraint is the point—the cover feels like an invitation into a personal notebook rather than a rock spectacle, perfectly matching the album’s reflective tone.

About the Lyrics & Music
Musically, this is prime mid‑70s singer‑songwriter territory: warm analog production, close‑mic’d vocals, tasteful keys, and guitars that shimmer rather than shout.
The title track, “Teaching an Old Dog New Tricks,” is the album’s mission statement—wry, self‑aware, and surprisingly tender. Across the record, Goodhand‑Tait writes about relationships with a novelist’s eye: small gestures, quiet regrets, and flashes of hard‑won optimism.
Themes of time passing and learning to adapt recur, but the mood never turns dour. There’s always a melodic lift—a chorus that opens up, a piano figure that feels like a window letting in light. On vinyl, those dynamics feel especially alive; this is very much a “sit down and play Side A all the way through” kind of record.

Conclusion
“Teaching an Old Dog New Tricks” is a subtle gem: no big singles, no gimmicks, just beautifully crafted songs by a writer who’d already seen a lot of the music business. If you like your vinyl honest, warm, and replayable, this is a sleeve you’ll reach for often.

Other Recommendations
If you enjoy this LP, follow it up with:

Philip Goodhand‑Tait – “Songfall” – more introspective, early‑70s charm.
Philip Goodhand‑Tait – “I Think I’ll Write a Song” – a great companion piece in both mood and quality.
For similar vibes: try Al Stewart – “Year of the Cat”, Gerry Rafferty – “City to City”, or early Elton John for that lush, story‑driven 70s sound.