What manner of musical monster is this? Two bands—on the same LP? Lunacy! Stark raving madness! Why, it reminds of the bootleg 99-cent LPs I used to see in the cutout bins of Woolworths as a teen. You’d be transfixed by a title like Jimi Hendrix Meets Brian Auger, but if you were foolish enough to buy it you soon discovered that Hendrix was MIA and the LP included nothing but dismal D-grade outtakes by Auger. And come to the reluctant conclusion that if the two did actually meet, it was at a party at Mama Cass Elliott’s flat in Mayfair.
Overwhelmed by nostalgia, I had to check this one out. And I’ll be damned if it isn’t indeed a winning combination, the reasons being twofold: (1) Humble Pie and Nazareth aren’t so terribly far apart, sound-wise, that the combo is ridiculous, and (2) while I half-expected the LP to contain losers and obscurities, it turns out that—and I don’t mean this to sound cold—both bands each recorded maybe five great songs, and they’re all on this LP. So it’s like getting two greatest hits packages in one!
I know that Humble Pie fanatics (total number: 17) and Nazareth nuts (total number: 17) alike will keen at my saying each band only put out five great songs. And it’s true; I’m exaggerating. But Winning Combination is as good a radical distillation of ‘Umble Pie and Nazareth’s best as you’re likely to find, and each group’s bona fide greatest hits packages contain more than a few songs that I would never, in my wildest imaginings, want to actually hear.
Some very brief history is in order. Steve Marriott of the great pipes and fantastic guitar, who’d just left mod legends The Small Faces in search of a harder, bluesier sound, formed Humble Pie in 1969. Personally I think it was a miscalculation, because Marriott was simply too talented to spend his time playing the English blooz and “Rollin’ Stone.” Anyway, Marriott (vocals, guitar, harmonica, keyboards) recruited Greg Ridley (bass, vocals), Peter “My God, it’s Alive!” Frampton (guitar, vocals), and Jerry Shirley (drums) and took to pummeling the eardrums of his audience, rather than finessing them the way he did with The Tiny Mugs. That said, when Humble Pie wasn’t busy playing annoyingly long-stemmed live versions of hoary old chestnuts (“I Don’t Need No Doctor,” ugh), it actually found the time to put out some wonderful singles.
As for Dumfernline, Scotland’s Nazareth, they were born in a manger in 1968, and played hard rock like manly men from Scotland play hard rock, namely hard. The line-up that put out their most (only?) famous LP, 1975’s Hair of the Dog, included Manny Charlton (guitar, synthesizer), Dan McCafferty (lead vocals), Pete Agnew (bass, backing vocals), and Darrell Sweet (drums), and here’s a piece of trivia for you: according to McCafferty, “hair of the dog” had nothing to do with a hangover cure but was a pun on “heir of the dog,” or son of a bitch. Who knew? All I know is that “Hair of the Dog” is in itself a great hangover cure, if it doesn’t kill you first. Personally, I’m afraid I always had too low an estimation of Nazareth’s IQ quotient. Not only did international editions of Hair of the Dog include a version of Randy Newman’s brilliant “Guilty,” but Nazareth also recorded a version of Little Feat’s “Teenage Nervous
Breakdown.” And they gave Dog’s 1976 follow-up the wonderful title Close Enough for Rock ‘N’ Roll. Sheer genius!
Well, I suppose it’s time to get down to business. Humble Pie’s “Shine On” is a shocker because Marriott turns the vocals over to Frampton, and the song is both less, er, loud and more of a pop confection than most of Humble Pie’s offerings. It isn’t exactly excitement city, but it boasts a nice enough melody and the female backing vocalists—Marriott’s great contribution to the Anglais Bleus—do their best to liven things up. I wouldn’t consider this one a great—Marriott can’t even be bothered to engage in any guitar pyrotechnics—but “30 Days in the Hole,” with Marriott and the female back-ups practicing the chorus at the beginning, is more like it. Some red Lebanese gets Marriott thrown in gaol, and he’s at his best bitching about it. The bass and drums kick ass, and those female singers are fantastic on the great chorus. Marriott throws in some harmonica, a voice says, “How you doin’ boy? You’re here for 30 days. Get-get-get your long hair cut…,” and then Marriott comes back, sounding great, to sing about “Newcastle Brown” and “a rollin’ dance floor” and this is one great song.
“Hot ‘N’ Nasty,” not to be confused with the Black Oak Arkansas tune of the same name, is one fast and mean number, with Marriott showing off those mighty vocal chops of his while an organ and piano throws out righteous riffs. “Don’t forget to shake that thing!” cries Marriott, presumably to someone in the studio making a martini. Then things speed up and get really funky, and Marriott finally serves up a way-too-short solo before the whole shebang fades into the steaming hot “Black Coffee,” a blues number I can actually get down with, thanks to the female backing vocalists and some great guitar and bass. It slows down in the middle, yawn, but Marriott is screaming, those female backing vocalists are smashing, and this is one cup of coffee that doesn’t need cream. The rockin’ “C’Mon Everybody” has Marriott wailing, while some big guitar riffs and mean drum pummel keep things trucking. Then it morphs into a big straightahead
riff fest, with Marriott drawing out the ending of “If your brother won’t rock/Then your sister will.” After that it’s just one cool jam, with Marriott stretching out on guitar and some cowbell throwing in. As for the ending, it’s Humble Pie at its best, with Marriott howling and playing some wild feedback hoodoo on his axe.
And that’s it for Humble Pie. Truthfully, the only tunes I’ve ever liked by the Pie are “Stone Cold Fever,” in which it sounds like Marriott sings, “I’ve got trouble in my hedgerow,” just like Led Zeppelin; the great “Four Day Creep,” which boasts some big barbaric riffs; “Stick Shift,” a cool psychedelic tune; and the great country honk that is “Alabama ’69.”
Nazareth is a surprise, for sure. Not because of “Love Hurts,” which everybody knows from high school dances clutching that girl or boy so hard in undying love that will soon curdle into hate when he/she takes a better-looking somebody to prom. I don’t have much to say about except it’s true, love hurts, and Nazareth’s take on the matter moves me every bit as much as Gram Parsons’. That and McCafferty sure has a set of pipes on him! Nor is it because of “Hair of the Dog,” a truly belligerent slice of hard rock at its best, what with the opening cowbell that sounds exactly like the one in G. Funk’s “We’re an American Band” and McCafferty’s feral vocals and those monstrous guitars playing that killer riff that everybody in the world, including that Kurdish family that walks on all fours, knows. But it’s the chorus that really rules, and if you’ve never screamed along with it stoned out of your gourd you haven’t lived. And instead of a guitar solo we get McCafferty singing through a talk box, which is a rad move if ever there was one.
“Go Down Fighting” is a high-octane number that opens with the chorus and boasts some mighty guitar riffs. It’s not the most original-sounding tune I’ve ever heard, but I like the way McCafferty sings, “If you wanna back down/You know that’s no disgrace” almost as much as I love his scream just before the guitar solo. I would call this one a kinda proto-AC/DC tune, except the group vocals that appear here and there are sort of wimpy, and it’s a tad slick (rawer, damn it, rawer!) for my tastes. Still, not bad, and better than “This Flight Tonight,” the LP’s only weak link. McCafferty’s vocals are a bit too smooth, and not much happens, but the real song killer are the lyrics. I can’t hear “Star light/Star bright/You’ve got the lovin’ that I like” without vomiting in my shoes, and it doesn’t help that it’s followed by a rather dull solo. It’s not until the group throws in some cool glam vocals towards the end that I perk up. Alas, they come and they go. I perk up again when McCafferty sings, “Should not have got on this flight tonight,” it makes me think maybe (please, oh please) the plane is going down. Alas again, for the plane doesn’t crash, and I’m with McCafferty—“This Flight Tonight” is one flight I wish I hadn’t gotten on either.
No, Nazareth’s wonderful surprise is “Holiday,” a pop/glam tune with a super-fabulous chorus that goes, “Momma momma please/No more deckhands/I don’t wanna be a pop star.” Here I thought Nazareth was a very heavy one-trick pony and they shock me with an unacknowledged glam classic. Why, that glamtastic chorus is enough to make me forget the rather banal, “It’s a holiday/It’s a holiday” that precedes it. McCafferty spends the song bemoaning that fact that his moms has married like 87 times and has gotten like 40 facelifts (“I just don’t know which one you is”), but he should quit whining and just enjoy the infectious melody and that marvelous chorus, which never fails to make me really, really happy.
Can you believe it? A twofer that unites bluster and brawn and ends up being an LP well worth owning. Humble Pie and Nazareth are far from my favorite bands, but if I had to own just one album by each of them it would be this album by both of them. It’s perfect for a persnickety guy like me, cherry-picking as it does the best (with one exception) from both camps to produce a single LP that satisfies both my complete ‘Umble Pie and Nazareth needs. I can listen to this, and need never be subjected to the Pie’s 20-minute rendition of “I Walk on Gilded Splinters,” or Naz’s disco-horrific take on “Morning Dew.” Or “Carry Out Feelings,” for that matter, which includes the immortally bad chorus, “Carry out feelings/Takeaway love.”
This album may have a lousy cover and look like one of those cut-out bin rip-offs I used to stare at in Woolworths, but it turns out to be the best thing since, well, Jimi Hendrix met Brian Auger.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
