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Rating: The warm wind of these days makes me appreciate the now golden countryside. I spend the afternoons walking along trails and headlands, dirt roads, and white tracks. Lost in the meanders of my thoughts, I sometimes rest in the shade of a few green patches I come across, other times under sparse and solitary mulberry trees found along the way. When solitude becomes enchanting, I never return home before evening, and the countryside, like a silent maiden, becomes a soul that is hard to say goodbye to. Amid these hills full of grain and the scent of cultivation, I await the night, which descends bringing with it only the humidity and the fireflies, perhaps an impending storm... new scents and new sounds that reveal themselves slowly and thunderously.
Thus pass these first days of summer, suspended and lost between the chords of the more relaxed Neil Young and the pages of the more bucolic Hermann Hesse. The countryside and its enchantment, its static nature that brings the soul to safety, away from the clamor of urban carousels, which delights the eyes and the heart with the graceful and beautiful leafy landscape, which, following the straightforward line of a fence, restores the taste of complete simplicity.
But forks and haystacks do not always stylize a pure and essential beauty, do not always portray the Truth; straw hats and wooden fences are often used as toys given as prizes at the amusement park, sold off and emptied of their charm and sense. I mentioned Hesse and Young just because they accompany these blue days, but a thousand other singers and poets have woven the web of the bucolic enchantment, the idyllic Arcadia, and in him, infatuations and catharsis.
This is the countryside that I like, that I enjoy finding in the pages that flow light and in the more rustic and reflective notes. In contrast, I've never liked the fairground countryside; from the beginning, I barely tolerated the deserving but hillbilly Southern groups. The image of rough cowboys often ends up in the most provincial cliché of the desert man, and so falls, overwhelming the poetry and intimacy of these secret and sheltered places.
To this somewhat hostile attitude of mine, there are exceptions, among which the most important, and perhaps indispensable, seems to be that of Lynyrd Skynyrd. The Lynyrd remind me of childhood games, remind me of my thoughts rolling in whirlwinds of straw and grains, but also bicycle rides on roads whitened by the sun and cross-country through woods and even under pouring rain, reminding me of summer grass mowing with my rougher and more vigorous grandfather.
Violent and instinctive, like the spontaneity of the most reckless rascals, the joy and passion of Lynyrd decreed their uniqueness and success; the fathers of Southern Rock, though crude, noisy, and pointlessly Southern to the extreme, have merits that cannot be denied and a “live” force that exudes a rusticity and rurality still unmatched.
However, I have never agreed with the stubborn re-proposition, their identity-less stubbornness, I found it stupid to pick up the guitar again, which has warmed so many evenings, just to be idiotically faithful to themselves. I do not agree with this work, “Endangered Species,” which despite being a good “product”, well-executed and that renders a certain idea of what was the group's dazzling rise, does not convey at all the aforementioned values of instinctiveness and passion, but sees a perennial, yet changeable, formation engaged in a demi-acoustic project born to retrace the steps of a glorious career in a new guise, but decidedly unsuited to the roaring image linked to these figures.
The pathos of yore is a distant mirage and my Arcadian afternoons need other essences.
Tracklist and Lyrics
01 Down South Jukin' (02:38)
Well Billy Joe told me, said everything's lookin' fine
He's got the place all secured, got the icebox full of wine
He said hurry on over and don't be late
He got three lovely ladies who just won't wait
Do some down south jukin'
And lookin' for a peace of mind
Now put your Sunday pants on, lets get out on on the road
We been workin' all week, and thinkin' its time we let go
I got three fine mamas sittin all alone, gonna sip my wine and get it on
And do some down south jukin'
Lookin' for a peace of mind
Now come Monday morn we'll be headin' out to the field
And we'll be doin our thing for Papa and ol' Uncle Bill
Lord, but come Friday night we'll be headin to town
Tryin' to pick up any woman hanging around
And do some down south jukin'
Lookin' for a peace of mind
02 Heartbreak Hotel (04:01)
(M. Boren Axton - Tommy Burden - Elvis Presley)
Since my baby left me, I found a new place to dwell
Down at the end of lonely street at Heartbreak Hotel
I get so lonely baby
I get so lonely, I get so lonely I could die
Though the place is crowded, you still can find some room
Where those broken hearted lovers cry away their blues
I get so lonely baby
I get so lonely, I get so lonely I could die
I get so lonely
I get so lonely, I get so lonely I could die
I get so lonely
I get so lonely, I get so lonely
03 Devil in the Bottle (03:35)
Well, there's a devil in the bottle, staring straight at me
Daring me to reach out, but I know he's testing me
If I take just one sip, I become that devil's son
Act a fool, sell my soul before God and everyone
Oh Lord, I know, I only hurt the ones I love
I'm walkin' down this dead end road, all alone and by myself
Wish I could blame the whiskey, but I can only blame myself
Running out of chances, and Lord that's such a crime
I got to find the answer before I lose my mind
Oh Lord its a cryin shame, oh Lord I've caused so much pain
I only hurt the ones I love
There's a devil in a bottle that just won't let me be
So many times I've been hurtin' my soul and family
But I got free on the day I fought the
Devil in the bottle
The next time that ol' devil tries to get the best of me
I'll smash that bottle against the wall and know I'm finally free
There's a devil in a bottle that just won't let me be
There's so many times I let him hurt me
I got free the day I fought the
Devil in the bottle
Devil in the bottle
Devil in the bottle
05 Saturday Night Special (03:53)
Two feets they come a creepin
like a black cat do
and two bodies are layin' naked.
Creeper think he got nothin' to lose.
So he creeps into this house, yeah
and unlocks the door
and as a man's reaching for his trousers
shoots him full of thirty-eight holes.
It's the Saturday night special
got a barrel that's blue and cold
ain't good for nothin
but put a man six feet in a hole
Big Jim's been drinkin' whiskey
and playin' poker on a losin' night
and pretty soon ol' Jim starts a thinkin
somebody been cheatin' and lyin'.
So big Jim commence to fightin',
I wouldn't tell you no lie.
Big Jim done pulled his pistol,
shot his friend right between the eyes.
It's the Saturday night special
got a barrel that's blue and cold
ain't good for nothin
but put a man six feet in a hole
Hand guns are made for killin',
they ain't no good for nothin' else.
And if you like to drink your whiskey
you might even shoot yourself.
So why don't we dump 'em people
to the bottom of the sea
before some ol' fool come around here,
wanna shoot either you or me.
It's the Saturday night special
got a barrel that's blue and cold
ain't good for nothin
but put a man six feet in a hole
It's the saturday night special
and I'd like to tell you what you could do with it too
and that's the end of the song
06 Sweet Home Alabama (04:01)
Turn It Up
Big wheels keep on turning
Carry me home to see my kin
Singing songs about the Southland
I miss ol'Bamee once again
And I think its a sin, yes
Well I heard Mister Young sing about her
Well, I heard ol' Neil put her down
Well, I hope Neil Young will remember
A Southern man don't need him around anyhow
Sweet home Alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you
In Birmingham they love the governor, booo hooo hooo
Now we all did what we could do
Now Watergate does not bother me
Does your conscience bother you?
Tell the truth
Sweet home Alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you
Here I come, Alabama
Now Muscle Shoals has got the Swampers
And they've been known to pick a song or two
(yes they do)
Lord they get me off so much
They pick me up when I'm feeling blue
Now how about you?
Sweet home Alabama
Where the skies are so blue
Sweet Home Alabama
Lord, I'm coming home to you
Sweet home Alabama
Oh sweet home
Where the skies are so blue
And the governor's true
Sweet Home Alabama
Lordy
Lord, I'm coming home to you
Yeah, yeah
07 I Ain't the One (03:27)
Now I'll tell you plainly, baby, what a plan to do.
Say, I may be crazy, woman, but I ain't no fool.
Your daddy's rich, mama, and you're overdue
but I ain't the one, baby, been messin' with you.
Got bells in your mind, lady, and it's easy to see.
I think it's time for me to move along, I do believe.
Or are you tryin' to put a hook on me, oh no?
Now you're talkin' jive, woman, when you say to me
that your daddy's gonna take us in, mama, 'n take care of me.
You know and I know, woman, I ain't the one.
I never hurt you, sweetheart, said, I never pulled my gun.
Got bells in your mind, mama, and it's easy to see.
I think it's time for me to move along, I do believe.
Time for me to put my boots out in the street..
Now you're talkin' jive, woman, when you say to me
that your daddy's gonna take us in, mama, 'n take care of me.
You know and I know, woman, I ain't the one.
I never hurt you, sweetheart, said, I never pulled my gun.
Got bells in your mind, mama, and it's easy to see.
I think it's time for me to move along, I do believe.
Oh, I must be in the middle of some kinda conspiracy
12 The Last Rebel (05:42)
There's a grey horse standin' still
As a soldier climbs in the saddle for one last ride
As the rain pours off his hat
You can see the shadows of the past written in his eyes
Now the cannons are silent
His friends are all gone
Gotta put it all behind him
If he ever wants to find his way home
He's the last rebel on the road
Just a boy with his old guitar
Keeps to himself
but everybody takes him wrong
But he carries on
Got a dream that will never die
Can't change him, no use in stayin' where you don't belong
Now he's rollin' down the highway
Gone too far too fast
No one will ever find him
he'll never look back
(chorus)
'Cause he's the last rebel
And he's all alone
He's the last rebel
His friends are all gone
He's the last rebel
The last rebel on the road
There'll never be another like him
He's the last of a dying breed
Ain't no use in tryin' to tame him
'Cause he's the last rebel
And he's all alone
He's the last rebel
His friends are all gone
He's the last rebel
gotta carry on
He's the last rebel
The last rebel on the road
He's the last rebel
He's the last rebel
He's the last rebel
He's the last rebel
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