"There are beautiful drives."
ROD STEWART: "An Old Raincoat Won ' t Ever Let You Down "1969
The sea rumbles under the gray sky with the colors of lead. The waves crashing on the pier, burying large rocks mossy brown algae Couvet. Small houses with slate roofs blend into the stormy sky, dark and clowns.
Pines and Oak Hill, which closes the port lie down under the onslaught of the wind. They did nothing wrong, they have already taken shape, battered throughout the year by the onshore winds that feel the salt spray.
I cast a last glance at the skyline. I can not help but find this tortured landscape yet rainy and wonderful. There is something magical, mysterious in these Celtic countries steeped in history and legend. Ankou, the sea, fishermen, druids, travel.
There, he yal'océan and the continent where they still say that everything is still possible. This is America, USA. And closer is the big sister, Great Britain, the perfidious Albion.
I love this land. I could walk there for days, his head in my thoughts. But I must return to the bourgeois Burgundy, the wines, these castles, Dukes, and that something magical, pagan, that does not exist here.
I am sometimes asked what disk could be the most fantastic dream vehicle for Celtic. He who breathes most heath Breton or Welsh, as the sweat and grime of the docks and factories of these workers, proud of the engine life of a country. Songs, simple walks along the sea or in the forest, the pints of beer with friends, the smiles of pretty redheads dancing and warm the heart of these men gruff but tender. I never found
Celtic music representative of these horizons. What we deign to offer us much that is fair based honky-tonk of beer. The Chieftains, or the Pogues (with tweezers), but also Alan Stivell, have done much to make me love this music. Festival Interceltique, the Corrs and a lot less.
In fact, one who has always represented the best that soul, these images I had in mind was none other than .... Rod Stewart. Scream, eructation of Breton pride, insult Irish stung. Rod Stewart. You're right, my friends, to lift the Joux. Him? This clown disco? This horn FM peroxide which had only one major role in the 80's: Grunge with a trigger resentment redoubled at the sight of his videos on MTV lame suit and pink girls in bikinis at the pool? This nerdy ultra-violet which is taken for the new Frank Sinatra a few years by publishing no fewer than six volumes of song-books useless and devoid of any soul.
Yes, my friends, Rod Stewart. I love Rod Stewart. I love Rod Stewart! But until 1974. Ah. Yes, because you imagine that the man was excellent during a dozen years. An absolute genius itself. More importantly, a voice, the voice of all the proles. Rod, Blues singer forced to type all the galleys, the simple mods, the groups who made no tomorrow yet sparks in clubs, and then the miracle: the Jeff Beck Group. The boy corsa
of his voice hoarse exceptional two drives wonderful, tasty limits and without end: "Truth" in 1968 and "Beck Ola" in 1969. The quartet should have to kneel to the public of the Woodstock Festival, charring Ten Years After, The Who, Mountain, Jimi Hendrix and many others by the quintessence of Heavy-Blues. But the quartet separated three weeks, destroying all hope. Rod is a loser? Jeff Beck is surely a sacred head cunt. The result is undoubtedly the failure of a great group, and one of two solo careers that would have a different appearance with such prestige. But whatever. 
Rod Stewart in London in 1969. Sacred year. The Hippies are dying in their graves dope, completed by Satanic Majesties at Altamont in December. The Stooges and MC5 were fucking on fire in Detroit. Led Zeppelin burn wild lands of his Ha rd-Blues glow.
Experience Jeff Beck Group nearly wanted to continue when Beck found a supergroup with the rhythm section of Vanilla Fudge, Tim Bogert is on bass and Carmine Appice on drums. Stewart should be in the game, but he could not stand the climate that prevailed weighing with Beck. The singer admits to not watching the guitarist in the eyes of two and a half years, for fear of crossing his hard eyes and inquisitive. Not cool enough, not enough fun. He much preferred the company of his buddy Ron Wood met in 1964 in a pub, and bassist Jeff Beck Group's first draft. It was not necessarily the best musician in the world, but at least he could play. When Lou
Reizner, head of Mercury, offers a solo artist contract Rod after hearing the first album the Jeff Beck Group, "Truth" in 1968, the blond Scottish seized his opportunity. Nevertheless, in July 1969 it will have to wait to enjoy it, the blame to other commitments Discographical exclusive.
He then engages his side a group of friends, not the least talented. Ron Wood is the game, on guitar and bass, of course. Other returning from the Jeff Beck Group, Mick Waller, drummer on the first album, and percussionist underestimated but absolutely stunning. Other fellow travelers miraculous join this little gang. One can also observe the presence of Martin Pugh, guitarist Mysterioso the formidable maestro-Steamhammer (but you already know). Ian MacLagan is on keyboards. He is a former pianist of the Small Faces, Faces and Future, a group that brings together former Small Faces Steve Marriott left except in Humble Pie. MacLagan, Kenney Jones and Ronnie Lane will become the faces with the arrival of ... Rod Stewart on vocals and Ron Wood on guitar.
When I say it's a bunch of friends! There is also Quittenton Martin on acoustic guitar, prodigy of English Folk-Blues at the time. It is particularly pre-Steamhammer guitarist of 71, and is co-author of the song "Maggie May" by Rod. This disc is superb. Because is a simplicity, a humility that makes listening pleasure with this little treasure for the little guy, that neither hip nor the it-girls, will never listen because it's written This album, and Rod Stewart Blues period will never be fashionable, all-time forever. Write it, workers of the world: this disc is yours forever, that one, and then the next three, which we will surely. Let's be frank
: Rod Stewart is a composer too. He writes here with Wood half of the disc, which is however very honorable when compared to a disk Johnny Hallyday at the same time (sorry). all starts with a sumptuous resumption of "Street Fighting Man" by the Rolling Stones. Rod Stewart and Ron Wood will inject a dose of Blues and proletarian roughness was missing this song. Everything begins with an acoustic guitar in hand that slide. The battery is clean, square, dry and powerful. Wood plays the bass, and amplifiers is snoring. The version seems to Country-Blues, but broke on his final by Keith Richards riff note for note. Woody seems born to play in the Rolling Stones, mastering the science of dirty riff ever. The result sees
sequencing of two superb titles very different but strangely complementary to my heart. The first is the beautiful Folk-Blues "Man of Constant Sorrow", imbued with a melancholy magic, both steeped in the blues and soul this typically British. This song is one of those songs that you whistle to give a bit of courage in the morning going to work.
The second is "Blind Prayer". Rock haunted, its melody is reminiscent of the best Steamhammer, but the one to come. There is the depth of the guitar, and this rage tinged with resignation, this desire to escape to freedom, the punctuation in the space-time. Martin Pugh's guitar shines a thousand lights, requiring the passage of its footprint outstanding composer. Stewart's voice is made of the wrath of the proletariat. "Hanbags And Gladrags" is a nice quiet song where the piano is classy and high-timber are adding their touch of nobility and cream of British pop. It proves one thing above all is that Rod Stewart is able to sing what matters to me with an incredible talent, it also unfortunately proves during the last thirty years, singing mostly anything. After choking previous titles, this beautiful song is a beautiful contemplation of the English countryside.
"An Old Coat Will not Ever Let You Down" is a boogie efficient, cheerful, combining both the Blues and Folk Scottish English. Joyful, upbeat, she is a walking, that he should sing next to your neighbor with cap, I-phone glued to their ears, and through which muted burp the Black Eyed Peas. It is even probable that the pretty brunette with bangs in front of you not putting a tender smile of his eyes blue. From Scotland, "I Would not Ever Change A Thing" in the proposed crossing of the moor, nose in the breeze and head in the pale sunlight. The power of
Heavy-Blues returns with the beautiful "Cindy's Lament." Again, Martin Pugh is out powder, supported by the low rough Ron Wood. Heady, angry, there is an explosion of guitars and piano. And I told you how Mick Waller is an amazing drummer, rich rhythmic beat.
is the ultimate anger before the muffled sound and "Dirty Old Town". This traditional song has its place here in this beautiful mix of Blues, Rock and Folk. The melody takes on the trappings almost jazz, guitar and harmonica before cross swords, seeing the figure of our hero away on the small paved road in the middle the Scottish moor, with a backdrop, a heap of coal and small brick houses with roofs of slate gray and wet and dust. 
There are beautiful drives. I remember buying this album to release date and cover. And also the price, ridiculous. And this desire to tell me that Rod Stewart, after being in the Jeff Beck Group, had not been that bad. 
I loved this disc. The songs, the artwork, sound and musicians. I find here the epitome of live music, rough but humane. It was definitely a different era, where the worst people were FM musical giants. What has happened, then happened to be there today? It's always the question I ask myself, ten years after purchasing this album. 
all rights reserved 
0 comments:
Post a Comment