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Rating: LIKE RATS IN THE CELLAR
After the last lesson at 'Bancroft Junior High School', Saul had a sweet, naïve adrenaline rush. For a young boy with an African-American mother (a well-known stylist for many rock/pop celebrities) and an English father of Jewish origins, the musical designer Tony Hudson, leaving the gray of Stoke-on-Trent in the UK, where he was born, to be catapulted into the multicolored, sprawling metropolis of Los Angeles was quite the leap. A triple somersault, but little Saul had already known for a few years what it meant to feel the frantic and pestering breath of the music business around him, especially due to the work of his parents, Ola and Tony.
Everything in his curiosity-hungry eyes seemed new and different, California had the shape of a huge ice cream with amazing flavors never tasted before; and the sincere friendship with Steven perfectly integrated into Saul's new American life. But that day had a different flavor than usual, despite the constant heat and humidity of L.A. were the same as the months preceding May and the summer season. 'Strange, exciting..' the most frequent thought for the teenager in those few hours that separated him from his first date with Darlene: a sensual girl, sunny like a Saturday morning at Venice Beach; now at the end of her course at Bancroft and more mature than the inexperienced and 'unripe' Saul. A t-shirt with a 1930s Mickey Mouse, the keys to the coveted Jeep, and the East Side eagerly awaited him. Little traffic at 7:00 p.m. along Downtown, a few kilometers and the white villa of an unexpected dream just steps away. 'Ok, behave and don't screw up', a mantra tormented Saul's mind at the sound of the doorbell. 'Hi, I was expecting you in half an hour but it's better this way: we're alone at home, go to the living room while I prepare something.' The boy, excited, could only stammer 'Okay, take your time!'.
The black leather sofa welcomed Saul's shyness with care, whose attention in those endless minutes was captured by the hi-fi and the stack of vinyl records beside it. 'Play whatever you want, no problem', and it seemed exactly the cue Saul wanted from Darlene at that moment. 'I saw, thank you' he replied breathlessly and began to browse through the girl's collection one by one: 'Exile on Main St.', 'Presence' and the debut of the New York Dolls quickly passed before him, sparking his imagination.
However, one album particularly piqued his interest. Black cover, and five solid 'diamonds' with the title 'Aerosmith-Rocks'. The needle of the turntable began to transmit unfamiliar, clear, primitive sensations. 'Back in the saddle' with its wall of boogie r'n'r guitars by Perry/Whitford and sizzling vox by Steven Tyler filled the room.. It was an innocent heart-stopping moment, the instant that carved a before and after in Saul. 'Rocks', indeed. The five from Boston conquered the US charts and gained success with the general public in 1975, with the classic 'Toys in the Attic', a work that contributed to their status as a flag-bearing 'hard/rock' band in the States. The blues of the fathers, Robert Johnson shaking hands with sulfur-scented characters of contemporary Rock (Joe Perry's heroes: Keith Richards and Jimmy Page) at the corner of that devious crossroads; a continuous, lustful and 'toxic' orgy with hard/blues electricity and 50s rock & roll postcards. The rocks keep rolling with the bluesy stride of the sly 'Last child' (preceded by the near-twin 'Fame' by the Bowie/Lennon duo a few months earlier..) and embellished by Joe's circular 'solo', then 'Rats in the cellar' unleashes a supersonic dance between Chuck Berry and punk beginning to pound on the old gate. 'Combination' is gritty, granite-like, and 'combines' Zeppelin power with a wild Stones flair, fueled by a rhythm section sharp as a hammer - Tom Hamilton on bass and Joey Kramer on drums. A chain of 'jingle' guitars opens the speeding train of 'Sick as a dog', 'Nobody's fault' (with its clear allusions and 'Presence' à la Zeppelin, in that very 1976..) is a sonic barrage with all the hallmarks of the coming heavy, a German bone-crushing tank and 'Get the lead out' the future Aerosmith copyright; the 'winged' mold used in the following decades for dozens of aerodynamic rock tracks.
Under the aegis of Columbia Records, produced by Jack Douglas and with the 'Toxic Twins' Tyler & Perry teetering on the brink from the studio sessions; an unhealthy and 'toxic' atmosphere, marked by rivers of drugs and alcohol. The street-hardened sound, compact with urban malaise: 'sick dogs' in the seedy backlot of a night club on the fringes of the city. This is Aerosmith in 'Rocks'. Saul still had that afternoon adrenaline on his skin, but it wasn't Darlene's inviting look and thighs as she boredly sipped her Bud with ice, lying astride the sofa. No, it wasn't her curvaceous form that attracted and thrilled him. He wanted to listen once more, and then again, to the seal of those rocks that had overwhelmed him: 'Home tonight'. An electric and poisoned ballad, the sob of Perry's guitar you wished would never end, well beyond the 3'13'' that nailed Saul Hudson; and a new world unfolded on the horizon. Darlene didn't take it so well, that evening..
The boy said goodbye euphorically, left, and said nothing more. There was a poisonous air in the room, after listening to that vinyl. Something toxic.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Back in the Saddle (04:40)
I'm back
I'm back in the saddle again
I'm back
I'm back in the saddle again
Ridin' into town alone by the light of the moon
I'm lookin' for old Sukie Jones she crazy horse saloon
Barkeep gimme a drink that's when she caught my eye
She turned to give me a wink that make a grown man cry
I'm back in the saddle again
I'm back
I'm back in the saddle again
I'm back
Come easy, go easy, all right till the rising sun
I'm calling all the shots tonight I'm like a loaded gun
Peelin' off my boots and chaps I'm saddle sore
Four bits gets you time in the racks I scream for more
Fools' gold out of their mines the girls are soaking wet
No tongue's drier than mine I'll come when I get back
I'm back in the saddle again
I'm back
I'm back in the saddle again
I'm ridin', I'm loadin' up my pistol
I'm ridin', I really got a fistful
I'm ridin', I'm shinin' up my saddle
I'm ridin', this snake is gonna rattle
I'm back in the saddle again
I'm back
I'm back in the saddle again
I'm back
Ridin' high
Ridin' high
Ridin' high
Already
02 Last Child (03:26)
I'm dreaming tonight, I'm living back home.
Right!
Take me back to a south Tallahassee.
Down cross the bridge to my sweet sassafras-y.
Can't stand up on my feet in the city.
Gotta get back to the real nitty gritty.
Yes, sir. No, sir.
Don't come close to my
home, sweet home.
Can't catch no dose
of my hot tail poontang sweetheart.
Sweathog ready to make a silk purse
from a J. Paul Getty and his ear
with her face in her beer.
Home, sweet home.
Get out in the field;
put the mule in the stable.
Ma', she's a cookin',
put the eats on the table.
Hate's in the city
and my love's in the meadow.
Hands on the plow
and my feet in the ghetto.
Stand up, sit down.
Don't do nothing,
It ain't no good when the boss-man
stuffin' down their throats
for paper notes
and their babies cry
while cities lie at their feet
when you're rockin' the street.
Home, sweet home.
Mama, take me home, sweet home.
I was the last child.
I'm just a punk in the street.
03 Rats in the Cellar (04:06)
Goin' under rats in the cellar
Goin' under skin's turnin' yellow
Nose is runny losin' my connection
Losin' money gettin' no affection
New York City blues
East side West side blues
Throw me in the slam
Catch me if you can
Believe
That you're wearin'
Tearin' me apart
Safe complaining 'cause everything's rotten
Go insanin' and ain't a thing forgotten
Feelin' cozy Rats In The Cellar
Cheeks are rosy skin's turning yellow
Loose and soggy lookin' rather lazy
See my body pushin' up the daisies
New York City's dues
East side west side news
Throw me in the slam
A catch me if you can
Believe
That you're wearin'
Tearin' me apart
New York City blues
East side west side blues
Throw me in the slam
A catch me if you can
Believe
That you're wearin'
Tearin' me apart
04 Combination (03:40)
The street is cold the dawn is gray
My heart says no but my head says stay
My work is finished or so I've been told
You can't part the three of us once we got a hold
I forgot my name
I took a shot on the chin
I'm rearranging my game
Tell by the shape I'm in
In the line of fire you know what to say
They gave us no choices just one shade of gray
My legs keep moving don't seem to stray
But I know each step we take they're one step away
I found the secret the key to the vault
We walked in darkness kept hittin' the walls
I took the time to feel for the door
I found the secret the key to it all
I got the Nouveauree
And dragged it home to bed
I traded you for me
I took it all and said
I find my own fun sometimes for free
I got to pay it to come lookin' for me
Walking on Gucci wearin' Yves Saint Laurent
Barely stay on 'cause I'm so God damn gaunt
I found the secret the key to the vault
We walked in darkness kept hittin' the walls
I took the time to feel for the door
I found the secret the key to it all
06 Nobody's Fault (04:25)
Lord I must be dreamin'
What else could this be
Everybody's screamin'
Runnin' for the sea
Holy lands are sinkin'
Birds take to the sky
The prophets are all stinkin' drunk
I know the reason why
Eyes are full of desire
Mind is so ill at ease
Everything is on fire
Shit piled up to the knees
Out of rhyme or reason
Everyone's to blame
Children of the season
Don't be lame
Sorry
You're so sorry
Don't be sorry
Man has known and now he's blown it
Upside down and hell's the only sound
We did an awful job and now they say it's nobody's fault
Old Saint Andres
Seven years ago
Shove it up their richters
Redlines stop and go
Noblemen of courage
Listen with their ears
Spoke but how discouraging
When no one really hears
One of these days you'll be sorry
Too many houses on the stilt
Three million years or just a story
Four on the floor up to the hilt
Out of rhyme or reason
Everyone's to blame
Children of the season
Don't be lame
Sorry
You're so sorry
Don't be sorry
Man has known and now he's blown it
Upside down and hell's the only sound
We did an awful job and now we're just a little too late
Eyes are full of desire
Mind is so ill at ease
Everything is on fire
Shit piled up in debris
California showtime
Five o'clock's the news
Everybody's concubine
Was prone to take a snooze
Sorry
You're so sorry
Don't be sorry
Man has known and now he's blown it
Upside down and hell's the only sound
We did an awful job and now we're just a little too late
07 Get the Lead Out (03:41)
Do... you like good boogie
Like a real boogie woogie
Hear the juke box singin'
A get the dance hall swingin'
A won't you grab my shaker
I got to meet your maker
Uumm... get out the lead
Get out on up there
Get the lead out
(Get ready) I'll show you my fist
(Get ready) take hold of my wrist
(Get ready) we really can't miss
(Get ready)
Uumm... hey good lookin'
A what'cha got there cookin'
You a young spring chicken
A make your feet start kickin'
no no, no no, no no, no no, no no, no no, no no, no no
(Get ready) I'll show you my fist
(Get ready) take hold of my wrist
(Get ready) we really can't miss
(Get ready)
Ooo... hey good lookin'
A what'cha got there cookin'
Hey good lookin'
A what'cha got there cookin'
You a young spring chicken
A make your feet start kickin'
Boot it out dance without me
No no, no no, no no, no no, no no, no no, no no
08 Lick and a Promise (03:05)
Johnny come lately on a Saturday night
Singin' how de do
Backstreet a boogie in the house of delight
Where they steal the show
The money come sour but the ladies are sweet
It's a love affair
Whole place rockin' people stompin' their feet
A when the gang's all there
He gets his woman every night for free
He's out there rockin' like you wouldn't believe
I sing na na na na na
Na na na na na
Johnny like to gamble with his lady Louise
She was a black jack deuces are wild
He got to thinkin' 'bout his nose in the breeze
Put it there Johnny looked and he smiled
He started thinkin' 'bout the fortune and fame
With the young girls down at his knees
He dug the money but forgot all the names
So he knew just how to appease
Lick and a promise
Lick and a promise
Lick and a promise
He gave the ladies a
Lick and a promise
Lick and a promise
He gave the ladies a
Lick and a promise
Loose change grubber in his early,early years
Had his poor mama pacin' the floors
He grabbed a guitar and a couple a beers
Now the crowd keeps screamin' for more
He gets his woman every night for free
He's out there rockin' like you wouldn't believe
I sing na na na na na
Sing na na na na na
Na na na na
09 Home Tonight (03:16)
Now it's time
To say good night to you
Now it's time
To bid you sweet adieu
And maybe drink a cheers to yesterday
And maybe you'll drink those tears away
So baby don't let go
Hold on real tight
'Cause i'll be home tonight
Tonight
So baby don't let go
Hold on real tight
'Cause i'll be home tonight
Tonight
Tonight
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Other reviews
By DeadHorse
From start to finish, the record presents itself as an exhausting cavalcade through hard rock, blues, and boogie.
'Nobody’s Fault' erupts as an excellent showcase of all the devastating rage of the group.
