Gotthard
G.

THE REVIEW

A long road that crosses all of America: long is also the stretch from Las Vegas to St. George, Utah. Weather conditions seem to become prohibitive, dark, very dark clouds are on the horizon. But the twenty-two bikers don't lose heart, the tour of America on Harley Davidson cannot stop them. The morning is cold, the breath becomes a cloud of humid condensation. Two men stand near their metallic steed. Their long friendship has created such complicity that no vain words are needed.

Marc Lynn and Steve Lee give each other a friendly pat on the back, smile, start their engines and set off. Together they think back on their lives. They remember when they formed Krak, who would later become Gotthard. They recall a dazzling career, whose efforts led to the satisfaction of the platinum record "Need To Believe" in 2009.

Very often, even the one who writes this humble tribute in the form of a review, thinks back to that tragic morning... listening to the notes of "G.," the third album recorded by the band. It has always been one of those overwhelming and breathtaking albums, even though it indeed offers nothing extraordinarily innovative. Excellently crafted hard rock. The innovations and much more personal style will come later when they find their way (consider the excellent "Lipservice," for example).

Here we still have the Gotthard under the guidance of Chris von Rohr, the Krokus guru, co-composer and producer. We have here some pieces that are seriously rocking: the priest-like Fist In Your Face, the tender ballad One Life One Soul, the excellent hard rock of Movin' On and Make My Day, covers always excellently reinterpreted like Mighty Quinn by Bob Dylan (already covered by Manfred Mann), He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother by the Hollies, and in the Japanese version of "G." Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin. Back then, they were still the raw and old Gotthard, those who were strongly inspired by Coverdale and his associates.

That morning Steve is happy, as he has never been in his life, because a lifelong dream comes true, that is, the long-dreamed motorcycle tour of the States: this is what his wife Brigitte will say later. After... the rain intensifies, the wind blows hard, it is cold, carrying a freezing and pounding rain: one of the bikers' engines has starting problems. The whole group takes advantage of this to stop, maybe cover themselves, put on a raincoat and set off again free and wild, riding the bike along the long snake of asphalt; the same asphalt that gets wet and becomes dangerously slippery, on which a speeding truck arrives, swerves, and crashes into the whole group, who miraculously are saved. Only one biker remains on the ground. Resuscitation is of no avail. Steve Lee dies on that cursed October 5th, 2010. Fate sometimes seems truly mocking: to leave at 47 years old while fulfilling your dream.

This modest page is dedicated to you Steve: rest in peace, farewell.