Nothin' but a hound dog

Hair Of The Dog - Nazareth (1975)

This is an old-fashioned, hard rocking, whiskey-ripened, spit riffing, bad woman blues album. The gritty tone is set even from Dave Roe's nightmarish cover art, exemplified in Dan McCafferty's gutter-scraped vocals, amplified in Manny Charlton's gut-level guitars and moody production, and sustained by the monolithic rhythm section of Pete Agnew and Darrell Sweet.

This album is dirty from the cowbell's first clang through to its final wailing fadeout. Make no mistake, however. While Hair Of The Dog may be up to its neck in dreck, it certainly isn't wallowing in it. This albums shreds tears, not sheds them.

It doesn't get much more audacious than the title track, (99/100). The riff is charged by frustration well past its boiling point, the vocals unrestrained in outrage. The vexation is palpable via talk box in the instrumental bridge and fade-out. Certainly anthemic, this track is only out for blood.

No time to take cover, though, as the assault of "Miss Misery", (99), (http://www.mediafire.com/?bie9l3sf4z8re52), also detonates from its very first sharp and savage riff. The vocals are nothing short of outstanding on this track, matched in intensity only by a turbulent slide guitar solo which can only have originated in the pit of Vesuvius. The chiming guitar in the mellow fade-out is a much needed shelter in this uncontainable furor.

It allows a more introspective look at disappointment in "Guilty", (73), a cover of a tune on Randy Newman's Good Old Boys (1974). The slow drunken lament emphasizes the torment of the vocals, which are accompanied only by junk organ, skillfully understated guitar, short-lived background "oohs" and a faraway drumbeat.

Of course, the relative tranquility is short-lived also. On an album as volatile as this, "Changin' Times", (85), turns the amps back up. The agitated vocals sear over a thick and heavy blues lick until 2:55 when the band kicks it into high gear on three-minute fadeout tailor-made for a quick getaway down the highway.

This is followed by "Beggar's Day", (98), (http://www.mediafire.com/?nidhu38ms9pv7js), an aggressive cover of a Nils Lofgren tune which first appeared on Crazy Horse's self-titled 1971 album. The guitars are beautifully brutal, particularly on the build-up to the chorus where they sound like they're melting. The solo is rabid and McCafferty's menacing growl somehow sounds more wickedly robust with each track. At 3:45, the song shifts into a mellow, synth-fueled escape called "Rose In The Heather". Charlton's more subdued guitar work here credits it an ethereal, almost calming quality. It's a great contrast to the rest of the album.

"Whiskey Drinkin' Woman", (80), is a pretty straightforward blues moan about an alcoholic girl dragging a guy into the poorhouse. The song showcases a couple of nice guitar solos (especially the long one at the end) and a warped sense of humour: "The way that things are going, (I'll) have to buy the distillery."

Hair then concludes with another change of pace on the haunting epic, "Please Don't Judas Me", (97). Over its nine-and-a-half minutes, the exasperated vocals plea for "just one shred of kindness" from the jagged and indifferent landscape of existence. The mood is weary yet indignant, with an eerie pall cast by stark guitars. The rhythm section advances zombie-like. What a perfect way to go out, a grim and determined nod to the saying "Once bitten ..."

This album has the spirit of a vicious dog fight in the mangy bowels of some back alley. Maybe one of the dogs doesn't even stand a chance against the other one, but he's going to inflict some damage one way or another. The anger is fueled by agony and expressed in adrenalin.

The U.S. edition of Hair replaces one cover with another, inserting hit single "Love Hurts" for "Guilty". I can take "Love Hurts" as a bonus track but its proto-emo whine is a hard fit for the album proper. The original version was recorded by the Everly Brothers in 1960, with notables as diverse as Roy Orbison, Robin Gibb and Cher (twice) also gracing the world with takes on it.

There have been several CD reissues of Hair, each with varying bonus tracks, including b-sides and single edits. The latest reissue, on Salvo (2010), includes the singles "Love Hurts", "My White Bicycle" and "Holy Roller" with its excellent b-side, "Railroad Boy". There are also five live recordings from the BBC, including this album's title track.

Hair Of The Dog (album): 90/100.

The water is wide

Drowning With Land In Sight - The 77's (1994)

It is no original thought that, somehow, from the bitter wreckage of failed relationships have come some epic albums.

It's a dangerous high-wire, of course. If unrestrained, the cauldron of emotion can easily swell with embarassing results. In the precise hands of a capable artist, however, the culminating work can be challenging, refreshing and most beautiful.

Bob Dylan's Blood On The Tracks, (1975), and Fleetwood Mac's Rumours, (1977), are famous examples of the latter. Adam Again's Perfecta, (1995), and the 77's 1994 effort, Drowning With Land In Sight, are more obscure instances where the rawness of emotion, that potent mix of anger and loss, have been skillfully distilled into something altogether more beautiful than a painful send-off or a confused picking up of the pieces.

In Drowning, Michael Roe examines the shambles of whatever had passed through his life with a brutal, yet refreshing honesty, in an album that, while at times is as hard as the 77's have ever sounded, finds an effective balance between impassioned rockers and mournful ballads.

Roe reveals his hand straight up with the opening track, a remarkably faithful cover of Led Zeppelin's arrangement of Blind Willie Johnson's "Nobody's Fault But Mine", (95/100). The guitars grunt and spit over an exasperated vocal lamenting one's own failings. It's a suitably seismic kickoff, featuring outstanding harmonica work on the instrumental bridge from 2:56.

"Snowblind", (85), is not a Black Sabbath cover, rather its own frustrated dirge, an invasive spotlight on an unhinged state of mind. The song rumbles along with appropriately chaotic guitars, casting the listener, willing or not, into the stormy midst of the song's own rattled existence.

The bassline on "Snake", (93), literally slithers. Meanwhile, lyrical venom is delivered alternately (and sometimes simultaneously) with a cold apathy and an inflamed intensity that serves nimbly the purpose of making listeners' skin crawl. It's a slippery, yet expertly executed, diversion from relationship wreckage to a place infinitely darker and that much more frightening. Roe himself introduces a video for the song here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aAxgDX9ZrOA.

Next, "Indian Winter", (75), fashions a decidedly Eastern rhythm into a guitar riff, while wistfully invoking a Native American raindance to chase away the blues. Then the hard licks and virulence are traded for breezy SoCal melodies on "Film At 11", (90), one of Drowning's stand-out tracks. "Mezzo", (90), is a beautiful instrumental; not hard, not soft, just nice.

"Cold Cold Night", (96), (http://www.mediafire.com/?nydsyopwt8f8nnt), is a slow-burning Rolling Stones-tinged lick, as the album returns to the hard side for a last-gasp plea at reconciliation. The guitar solo at the song's end, especially from 5:25, drops my jaw to this day, no matter how many times I hear it.

Also on the list of things that can provoke an angry response is a health scare. David Leonhardt of The Strawmen was playing guitar for the 77's at the time he was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Disease. "Dave's Blues", (85), is a gut-level expression of that, though slightly censored by the record company. "Sounds O' Autumn," (66), signals the cry of war drums for nearly two minutes, while simultaneously signalling an end to Drowning's rockers.

"The Jig Is Up", (77), is the start of a trio of ballads that wind down the album. "Jig", while pushing the borders of self-pity as far as this album dares, still sounds epic thanks to the continued presence of war drums and guitars as majestic as if at the summit of some Himalayan beast. Good that the guitars can be up there, even when the subject matter can't. Roe's trademark playful lyrics highlight both it and "Alone Together", (83), a jaunty pop song with a strong vocal performance and a guitar so precise not a note is wasted.

The album ends strong with "For Crying Out Loud", (95), (http://www.mediafire.com/?3tqu3ow6nud61qo), a song only written and included at the record company's insistence that there be something "positive" on it. Tom Petty once wrote "Some days are diamonds, some days are rocks." Phil Madeira wrote, "Life's a wicked job but someone's got to do it. When it gets rock hard, you've got to chisel through it." This song gropes down that same dusk road trying to figure how to go on when there's no reason to.

The beauty of this album is in the warts-and-all honesty of its presentation. The artists involved cannot be accused of hiding and the naked heart is perhaps the world's rarest resource.

Drowning With Land In Sight (album): 86/100.

Thunder road

Strikes - Thundermug (1972)

I was looking at a children's book yesterday. It featured paintings of various weather patterns and, to teach the children what is what, had the corresponding word emblazoned underneath. Sun, rain, all the major stuff was there. But then, under the picture of a big lightning bolt was the word "Thunder!"

Sigh.

Anyways, I just came across this album a couple of months back and it made a great first impression. It hits like lightning -- heavy and you never see it coming -- but sounds like thunder. The songs are monsters -- big guitars, big bass, big drums -- like Mountain or some of the heavier Bachman-Turner Overdrive. Like BTO, Thundermug is Canadian-made, hailing from London, Ontario.

The only song I knew previously was the album opener, "Africa", (82/100). It begins the album with the propulsive energy, great riffing and frenetic bass that characterize Strikes as a whole. I had heard the song occasionally on classic-rock radio, always liked it and was surprised that the album only gets better from here.

"Page 125/What Would You Do?/ Help Father Sun Suite", (88) is a three-part epic, part raging guitars, part bizarre sha-la-la harmonies, part teasing ballad. Ten minutes is ample time to touch a lot of ground, but even in the relatively quieter moments, somehow the heavy guitars are always hanging around in the background, just waiting for the chance (and usually not very patiently) to make their impressive presence felt.

"And They Danced", (94), (http://www.mediafire.com/?kfm5184n93slx5k), follows up shortly on its heels, almost as if part four of the suite. "Now go sing this song to your friends," it says, purporting, "there's good in the message it sends." Whether or not that's accurate, the blistering guitars exquisitely erupt, romping unabated from 1:18 until 3:31. I'll dance to that, while whole cities are leveled in its wake.

This is followed by a straightforward, though ultra-heavy cover of The Kinks' "You Really Got Me", (77), before "Fortune's Umbrella", (84), cuts back the pace a couple notches. If nothing else, it shows Thundermug can do more than just high-octane. Deceptively mellow, the guitars again simmer until they finally boil over in the "lalala" bridge.

The relatively peaceful oasis is short-lived as the guitars are cranked up again for "Jane J. James", (88). The bass is positively elastic, while the guitar solo from 1:14 to 1:28 is a great example of how much a talented guitarist can do with even just a few bars. "Will They Ever", (85), is another flash of harmonic hard rock with a regal sounding solo in the middle.

Strikes ends, perhaps appropriately, with the biggest rocker on the whole album, "Where Am I?", (93), (http://www.mediafire.com/?zjasi0k8bgbn4bo). What begins as clap-happy singalong soon detonates into six-string fury. The guitars sound like sonic steroids, while the vocals soar and incite. We get another extended musical interlude, fuzzy and fried, replete with rhythmic rumblings and cool little drum fills.

The album was released on Axe Records in 1972, although Epic repackaged it for the USA a year later. Though having the same title and cover art, the US version actually only includes four tracks from this album, along with seven from Thundermug's sophomore release, Orbit.

It's good to remember when an album could be short, sweet and still pack more than its share of punch.

Strikes (album): 86/100.