I remember buying Aerosmith’s Columbia years compilation Box Of Fire back in the mid 90s. I didn’t know a lot of the band’s 70s stuff and I was worried I’d risked too much cash on 13 CDs worth of albums I might not like that much. But the moment I heard the first riff of Make It, the opening song on their 1973 debut album, I knew it was going to be ok. Make It is a great, gutsy opener and a decent song but it’s the guitars that really umm… make it. It’s chock full of dirty drop-D riffing and colourfully wonky soloing. And that intro riff, with its goosebump-inducing suspended chord and mini-gallop, still knocks me out as much today as it did back in 1994. Money well spent.
Metalheads shouldn’t be discouraged that I’m ending my instrumental series with some progressive rock. On Larks’ Tongues In Aspic, Part One, King Crimson unleash the kind of demonic power that your average black metaller would gladly sacrifice their corpse-painted left bollock to have access to. Being a prog track, there are also plenty of other tangents and moods here, from muscular jazz funk to bucolic classical and a climax of ghostly voices and spellbinding lead bass from the late John Wetton. But the way the sung erupts from its twinkly opening and ominous violin into that diabolical, violent riff… there are no words.
Budgie – Never Turn Your Back On A Friend (MCA 1973)
Budgie’s third album is a classic of early metal, mostly on the strength of its bookending tracks. The speedy, rifftastic opener (and future Metallicover) Breadfan and the monumental closer Parents make Never Turn Your Back On A Friend a must-hear and a great gateway into the Welsh band. My main gripe is the shite album title. I reckon that with that artwork they should have called it “Smuggler”. A wasted opportunity.
Bow to evil sorcery as Nazareth sell their soul to you-know-who. It’s a well-worn story: guy is desperate; thinks God and Jesus aren’t listening; sells his soul to the Devil. And it sounds like it wasn’t a great idea. No Manowar-style “Lucifer is king, praise Satan” triumphalism here. Nazareth sound more like they have a hellhound on their trail.
Sold My Soul isn’t all that exceptional lyrically or compositionally, but succeeds on the strength of its rootsy, swampy delivery and Dan McCafferty’s vocal torment as he repeatedly yelps “I sooold my souuull” in various degrees of anguish. Taken from the band’s 1973 breakthrough Razamanaz, it’s not the first song you’d pick for a playlist but it’s great deep cut that forms the dark heart of one of my favourite albums.
Sammy Hagar has always been a divisive figure, not least for being the interloper who dared replace Dave Lee Roth in Van Halen. But when Hagar supporters find themselves unable to convince anyone of Van Hagar’s merits or the quality of his various other outings, they can always rely on one thing: the 1973 debut album from Montrose. It’s an unassailable classic of 70s man rock and one of the earliest examples of party-hearty American metal. Other 70s hard rockers would enjoy more fame and rewards but Montrose‘s cult influence would be heard everywhere from the clubs of the LA glam scene to the garages of the NWOBHM.
So kudos to Sammy for his charismatic vocals and songwriting contribution (“I gave love a chance and it shit back in my face”). But the real star of the show is the band’s guitarist and founder Ronnie Montrose. His superior playing and hot rod riffing is timeless and, in tandem with producer Ted Templeman, he colours the band’s meat and potatoes simplicity with a deceptively rich range of tones. From the spacey, hard-charging Zep chug of Space Station #5 and the revved up intro to Bad Motor Scooter to the monster-plod bludgeon of Rock Candy, Montrose is a treasure-trove of stealable guitar parts and sounds. The old-timey Good Rocking Tonight and One Thing On My Mind lean towards filler but both are served up with charm and stop the album from getting too po-faced.
Unfortunately, Montrose couldn’t make it last. One more (underrated) album later, Sammy would be fired. And he wouldn’t be involved with anything quite this good again. But it can be 1973 forever. Just take your top off, stick on Montrose and rock the nation.
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