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Rating: "Music is all we have and know. If it hadn't been for rock'n'roll, we would have gone to pick cotton. For about seven years, we played in clubs, or some of the guys worked delivering flowers to homes. I worked as a mechanic in a garage. In the end, we said: screw it, we want to play or die." (Ronnie Van Zant)
When it comes to southern rock, perhaps, the first two names that come to mind for most fans of that raw and pungent rock—born out of repeated listens to the polychrome rhythm 'n' blues of Ry Cooder and the personal expressiveness blues of Paul Kossoff (Free)—are the Allman Brothers Band and Lynyrd Skynyrd. The former reintroduce and simultaneously create the standards of a British-rooted rock blues, reinforced by a double rhythmic section that favors improvisation and exudes energy in seemingly distant musical territories, also invoking psychedelia and jazz. The latter, on the other hand, boast a naturally unkempt image, flaunting a searing form of boogie rock where the piano is the crucial element to avoid assimilation with the explosiveness of the hard rock bands of the time.
They arrived at their definitive name (taken from an intolerant physical education teacher) as Lynyrd Skynyrd after a past as One Percent, which saw them itinerant among the effluvia that spread among the noisy late-night patrons of historic gathering spots like the Comic Book Club (now a parking lot) or the Forest Inn (demolished in 1972) of their hometown Jacksonville. After an apparent interest from Capricorn Records (already a label for the The Allman Brothers Band), it would be MCA to sign the Skynyrd, entrusting them to the experienced hands of Al Kooper (and yes, it was his hands playing the Hammond on Dylan's immortal "Like A Rolling Stone") for the production of their self-titled and striking debut album.
The second album saw the light in April 1974 and had a much larger audience in waiting than did the group's first work. In support of the relentless desire to convey how important it was for LS to be deeply themselves through music, it becomes evident as soon as the notes of the riff of "Sweet Home Alabama" start. A song that, on the input of the imaginative Gary Rossington, took shape only with the brilliant development of the basic chords by Ed King (recently switched from bass to guitar), further refined with the patriotic lyrics of Ronnie Van Zant, giving it the right credentials to make it an anthem for the group and beyond. Equally impressive is the introduction of "Working for MCA", a track where Ronnie Van Zant's vocal aggression gets hit and dragged along by the thorniness of the unexpected combination of three guitars, further highlighted by the powerful rhythmic work of Wilkeson (bass) and Burns (drums). The boogie of "Swamp Music" successfully keeps the blood pressure of listeners high, while with "The Needle and the Spoon", the innate ability to blend swamp rock with moments of pure enjoyment is revealed, addressing delicate themes such as the dangers of drugs or the anguish that prevails when spending a lot of time on the road (I've been feelin' so sick and tired, Got to get better, Lord before I die... Thirty days, Lord and thirty nights, I'm coming home on an airplane flight: Lord, I've been tired and sick, got to change... Thirty days and thirty nights, I'm coming home on an airplane). "Don't Ask Me No Questions" (the result of a collaboration between Rossington and Van Zant) plays the role of the most entertaining track of the pack, yet always in keeping with the principles that govern the spirit of those who play rock 'n' roll, while "I Need You" is enthralling, and the delicacy of "The Ballad of Curtis Lowe" is there to remind us of how the strings of a candidly picked dobro can also best reflect the melodic southern tradition. The album closes with a scorching version of "Call Me the Breeze" (borrowed from "Naturally" - 1972 - the debut album by J.J. Cale), where the smoking Gibson Firebird of Collins heats up the ground for the lethal killer solo of piano, conceived and elaborated by the skillful and beloved keyboardist Billy Powell (R.I.P.) who casually transitioned from the role of roadie to a permanent (and fundamental) member of the band.
An album where inspired tracks converge, taking even more shape through a powerful sound, yet capable of expressing the potential of a band that gives its best live, fully capitalizing just in the studio the sweat poured shortly before on the stages of the States of the South. To be listened to without reservations!
Tracklist and Lyrics
01 Sweet Home Alabama (04:42)
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
02 I Need You (06:54)
Ain't no need to worry, there ain't no use to cry
'Cause I'll be comin' home soon to keep you satisfied
You know I get so lonely that I feel I can't go on
But it feels so good inside, babe, just to call you on the telephone
Oo baby, I love you, what more can I say
Oo baby, I need you, I miss you more every day
I woke up early this mornin' and the sun came shining down
And it found me wishin' and hopin' mama, you could be around
For you know I need you more than the air I breathe
And I guess I'm tryin' to tell you, woman, oh what you mean to me
Oo baby, I love you, what more can I say
Oo baby, I need you, I miss you more every day
I'm tryin' to tell you I love you in each and every way
I'm tryin' to tell you I need you much more than a piece of lay
Oo baby, I love you, what more can I say
Oo baby, I need you, I miss you more every day
05 The Ballad Of Curtis Loew (04:45)
(Allen Collins - Ronnie VanZant)
Well I used to wake the morning before the rooster crowed
Searching for soda bottles to get myself some dough
Brought 'em down to the corner, down to the country store
Cash 'em in and give my money to a man named Curtis Loew
Old Curt was a black man with white curly hair
When he had a fifth of wine he did not have a care
He used to own an old dobro, used to play it across his knee
I'd give old Curt my money, he'd play all day for me
(Chorus)
Play me a song Curtis Loew, Curtis Loew
I got your drinking money, tune up your dobro
People said he was useless, them people are the fools
'Cause Curtis Loew was the finest picker to ever play the blues
He looked to be sixty, and maybe I was ten
Mama used to whip me but I'd go see him again
I'd clap my hands, stomp my feets, try to stay in time
He'd play me a song or two
Then take another drink of wine.
Chorus
Yes sir
On the day old Curtis died, nobody came to pray
Ol' preacher said some words, and they chunked him in the glade
But he lived a lifetime playin' the black man's blues
And on the day he lost his life, that's all he had to lose
Play me a song Curtis Loew, Hey Curtis Loew
I wish that you was here so everyone would know
People said he was useless, them people all are fools
'Cause Curtis you're the finest picker to ever play the blues
06 Swamp Music (03:29)
Going down to the swamp
Gonna watch me a hound dog catch a �coon
Well, I'm going down to the swamp
Gonna watch me a hound dog catch a �coon
You know the hounddog make-a music
On a summer night under a full moon
Lord, fetch my cane pole mama
Gonna catch a brim or maybe two
Lord, fetch my cane pole mama
Gonna catch a brim or maybe two
And when the hound dog start barkin�
Sounds like ol� son house singin� the blues
(chorus)
Hound dog sing that
Swamp, swamp, swamp, swamp music
Swamp, swamp, swamp, swamp music
When the hound dog starts singin�
I ain't got them big ol� city blues
Well, hey pretty mama
Lord, just take that city hike
Said go ahead pretty mama
Lord, just take your city hike
Well, I'd rather live with the hound dogs
For the rest of my natural born life
(chorus)
Singing that
Swamp, swamp, swamp, swamp music
Swamp, swamp, swamp, swamp music
Well, I'd rather live with the hounddogs
For the rest of my natural born life
Well, I'd wanna live with the hound dogs
For the rest of my natural born life
07 The Needle And The Spoon (03:52)
Thirty days, lord and thirty nights
I'm comin' home on an airplane flight
Mama waitin' at the ticket line
Tell me son why do you stand there cryin'
It was the needle and the spoon
And a trip to the moon
Took me away, took me away
I've been feelin' so sick inside
Got to get better, lord before I die
Seven doctors couldn't help my head, they said
You better quit, son before your dead
It was the needle and the spoon
And a trip to the moon
Took me away, took me away
Quit the needle. Quit the spoon
Quit the trip to the moon
We gonna take you away. Lord, we gonna take you away
It was the needle and the spoon
And a trip to the moon
Took me away, took me away
It was the needle and the spoon
I've seen a lot of people who thought they were cool
But then again, lord I've seen a lot of fools
Well, I hope you people, lord can hear what I say
You'll have your chance to hit it some day
It was the needle and the spoon
And a trip to the moon
Took me away, took me away
Don't mess with the needle or a spoon
Or any trip to the moon
It'll take you away
Lord, their gonna bury you boy
Don't mess with the needle
Now I know, I know, I know
08 Call Me The Breeze (05:23)
Call me the breeze
I keep blowin' down the road
Well now they call me the breeze
I keep blowin' down the road
I ain't got me nobody
I don't carry me no load
Ain't no change in the weather
Ain't no changes in me
Well there ain't no change in the weather
Ain't no changes in me
And I ain't hidin' from nobody
Nobody's hidin' from me
Oh, that's the way it's supposed to be
Well I got that green light baby
I got to keep movin on
Well I got that green light baby
I got to keep movin' on
Well I might go out to California
Might go down to Georgia
I don't know
Well I dig you Georgia peaches
Makes me feel right at home
Well now I dig you Georgia peaches
Makes me feel right at home
But I don't love me no one woman
So I can't stay in Georgia long
Well now they call me the breeze
I keep blowin' down the road
Well now they call me the breeze
I keep blowin' down the road
I ain't got me nobody
I don't carry me no load
Oooh mister breeze
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