I used to know this rather dim garbage head who gobbled a handful of pills he thought were opiates but weren’t, and he swore—on a stack of ludes!—they didn’t do anything but make his waist-length hair stand straight up in the air and vibrate. I’m pretty sure his story was bullshit. That said, if you’re looking for an album that will do the same thing, you could do much worse than check out The Osmond’s Crazy Horses.
You heard me right: The Osmonds. Because despite what you may have heard about Ogden, Utah’s finest, they weren’t a do-goodie, whiter-shade-of-pale tweenie-pop imitation of the Jackson Five but substance-abusing (they sometimes took as many as three aspirin at once!) Mormon mofos who took their Tang straight yet still managed to stand up on their hind legs and bray.
And the culmination of their badassness was Crazy Horses, one of the greatest hard rock albums your ears will ever hear. And that’s not just me talking: in Stairway to Hell: The 500 Best Heavy Metal Albums, rock crit Chuck Eddy puts Crazy Horses at No. 66—which is too low in my opinion, but then everybody underestimates the Mormon Motörhead.
The brothers began their career as a barbershop quartet, The Osmond 5 (math is not taught in the schools of the Church of Latter Day Saints) before becoming worldwide superstars thanks to little brother Donny and the bubblegum classic “One Bad Apple.” Meanwhile, though, Donny’s older siblings were chomping at the bit. They wanted to write their own songs and play their own instruments and smoke fake cigarettes and change their name to The Gentile Killers. So they staged a coup of sorts, relieving Donny of lead singer duties to toughen up their sound while honing their protopunk chops by playing along to Hollies’ records until they were the five maddest, baddest, LDS-taking apples in the whole bunch, girl.
Come 1972, brothers Alan (rhythm guitar, backing vocals), Wayne (lead guitar, backing vocals), Merrill (lead vocals, bass), Jay (drums, lead and backing vocals), and Donny (keyboards, backing vocals) went into Hollywood’s MGM Recording Studios with something to prove. They chugged a full bottle of caffeinated soda (shared it, actually) before each session and proceeded to go out of control, turning their amps to an unheard-of 5 and forgetting to say “Sir” to the producer and in general making The Replacements’ puke-on-the-ceiling studio antics seem tame in comparison. Just how wild did things get? Recalls Michael Lloyd, who co-produced the sessions, “I clearly recall Wayne saying the word ‘darn’.”
What they created out of all that mayhem was Crazy Horses, which to quote Walt Whitman is “a barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world” and which I will stand against any Angel album ever made. It’s not perfect, mind you. “And You Love Me” and “That’s My Girl” are two chewy sticks of bubblegum that have no place on this mighty monolith of metal. Personally I believe we owe their presence on Crazy Horses to brother Donny, who I believe pulled a Lou Reed and snuck into the studio in the middle of the night and added them to the LP’s final mix in revenge for being unceremoniously dumped as lead singer, the little fucker.
Album opener “Hold Her Tight” is a tres funky slice of run-amok propelled by the Nordic guitar riff from Led Zep’s “Immigrant Song.” But as one YouTube commentator noted, the Osmonds’ is “a nicer song and the guys don’t look threatening and don’t flaunt a decadent lifestyle.” Amen. I never liked Zep’s decadent lifestyle and personally think we need more non-threatening acts in rock, especially with the likes of Sufjan Stevens around. But while the brothers may not look menacing they sure sound it, what with brother Wayne’s wacked-out wah-wah guitar opening and freaky solo, the punchy three-part lead vocals of Alan, Wayne, and Merrill, some mucho funkadelic percussion by brother Jay, and some great screams at song’s end.
A tremendous tune and fine salute to the most exciting state in the union, “Utah” motorvates along at a fair clip thanks to a badass guitar riff copped straight from the Hollies’ “Long Cool Woman in a Red Dress.” The group singing (led by Alan) is great, the horn section is blistering, and brother Wayne plays one hot-as-Satan’s-cock solo on the guitar. Why, it’s almost enough to make me move to the Beehive State, especially when a sax comes squawking in and Alan lets loose with “Ain’t never gonna be no missionary/Just gimme some polygamy/And a funky Mormon underwear party!”
“Girl” is proof positive that the boys were dropping LDS. A mid-tempo rocker with a psychedelic twist, it starts with brother Merrill singing, “Girl, will you be the one in my life to give me love today/Hey hey hey,” only to be interrupted by a Babel of background chatter. Meanwhile the backing vocals get weirder and weirder, somebody makes like a human beat box, and that hubbub of background voices gradually takes over, running roughshod over Merrill, who lets out a great closing scream then shouts, “That was funny!”
“What Could It Be” is the greatest song the Raspberries never recorded, right down to its lovely melody and very Eric Carmen-like lead vocals by Wayne. Why, you could slip this baby onto a Raspberries compilation and nobody would know the difference, except Eric Carmen who would keep mum and maybe even include a chapter in his autobiography describing how the song came to him in a dream in which he was attacked by crazy horses who sang the melody to him while kicking him in the head, just like a pony kicked my best friend in the 3rd grade Arnold in the head, and he still talks funny.
“We All Fall Down” opens with a strange series of ascending riffs before turning into a big-bottomed stomper. It sounds like Led Zep with horns and features Merrill singing some very Mansonesque lyrics (“Listen to what I tell you, it really don’t matter what you may be/What your name is, what your game is/Or what you mean to society”), which makes me wonder whether Dennis Wilson was the only rock star hanging out with The Family. Meanwhile the song just gets weirder and wilder, with Donny playing a quick soaring burst on the Yamaha YC-45D combo organ as a sax goes wild and Merrill’s vocals become more agitated and brother Alan kicks the shit out of his drums.
“Crazy Horses” is the album’s high-water mark and a song so badass it’s been covered by Lawnmower Deth. “Crazy Horses” opens with some wild neighing produced by Donny on the Yamaha YC-45D combo organ with theremin, then Wayne plays one badass guitar riff while brothers Jay and Merrill swap lead vocals. Then the whole band sings, “Crazy Horses/Crazy Horses” while Donny plays some more wild shit on the organ. And the vocals just get more demented until Wayne plays one mean axe solo punctuated by horns, after which Donny really goes apeshit on the organ and the whole band repeats “Crazy Horses” and the horns really kick in as the song fades out.
“Life Is Hard Enough Without Goodbyes” is a psychedelic soul number that opens with a riff I know from someplace but just can’t put my finger on. It’s been driving me crazy for days. Then Merrill comes in vocals that are all lush like thick-ply carpet and Wayne plays some scorching blues licks, after which Merrill sings with real soul, “Oh you’re making me cry and cry and cry/And here I go again.” Then Wayne plays a hip solo and Donny, wee bubblegum Donny, takes the song out with a long and twisted theremin solo that makes Jimmy Page’s theremin playing sound strictly minor league. Who’d a thunk it? The little turd’s a genius!
“Hey Mr. Taxi” is my personal fave off Crazy Horses, what with its frantic and soulful vocals by Merrill, big horn section and hard-driving guitars, and great sound effects. A very funny song about a guy stuck in a taxi driven by a maniac, it features such wonderful lines as “Hey Mr. Taxi/I think you’ve gone wacky/I’m gonna walk the rest of the way/Help me, someone help me/He doesn’t hear a thing I say… aaaaah!” Which is followed by the great chorus (“Let me out!/Let me out!/Get me out of here!”) and a wailing guitar solo that blends in with the sound of car horns, screeching brakes, and a final crash, while Merrill continues to scream, “Let me out!/Let me out!/Get me out of here!”
“Julie” opens with piano and some very soulful vocals by Merrill, then goes all Raspberries on your ass before kicking into overdrive. I’m not wild about the song’s fast-paced chorus, nor do I care much for the horns, which are too Vegas for my tastes. That said “Julie” has its merits, especially Merrill’s big scream towards the end and its frenetic tempo, and whatever else can be said about The Osmonds on “Julie” they invented a whole new genre, Broadway Punk.
The album closes with the deranged “Big Finish,” a very short blast of Disney-style cartoon music intermixed with the Osmonds singing “One Bad Apple.” I don’t know why it’s there, or whose idea it was, but it really makes me wonder if the Brothers Osmond weren’t dropping LSD on the sly.
Okay, so maybe Crazy Horses isn’t one kickass heavy metal album, or a heavy metal album at all for that matter. But it shows authentic flashes of brilliance, and has enough truly good songs on it to make me like it more than I’ll ever like The Police, The Clash, and any number of other bands I could name if I weren’t so damned lazy. It’s a pity The Osmonds didn’t follow up on it, although “Traffic in My Mind” off 1973’s The Plan actually rocks harder than anything on Crazy Horses. And I can only wonder what my old garbage head pal would think about it. He’d probably just laugh at it. Then eat a handful of pills that would cause his hair to stand straight up and vibrate.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B-
