Nazareth
Hair Of The Dog

THE REVIEW

I knew nothing about Nazareth. Nothing.
I discovered their existence while searching for one of their songs online for my mother; it happened once before: on that occasion, I discovered Uriah Heep. My sensors got activated, “here comes another great band of mad… no, well, the joke is obvious…”

Debaser had no record of them, but at least it indicated their discography. I chose the title I liked the most; “Quick, quick,” I said to myself: said like this, it’s awful, but I boldly ventured into the mule and, while leaving with this “Hair Of The Dog,” labeled nineteen seventy-five, I took a leap onto Wikipedia. Well, the page was as complete as a Christmas lunch can be without tortellini in beef broth served in a white ceramic soup tureen. Word for word, I report all the text: “Nazareth is a hard rock band formed in 1968 in Dunfermline, Scotland”. Wow, gosh... However, it provided, pay attention, the current line-up [current, you get it? N. d. A.]. That’s all, as Bugs Bunny would say while bidding farewell to the children watching him.

To cut it short, I discovered two things: firstly, I realized that I had probably picked their most famous album, I read a #17 US which looks more like a rank in a chart than a Twa flight to Minneapolis code. Secondly, the song I already knew was from this LP, and it was “Love Hurts”, an epic ballad. So what? No, come on, be serious… I realized I didn’t have the psycho-mental conditions to face a review. Convinced of this, I reached for the sponge to throw it, but it was wet and my hands are already too dry in winter. “Maybe next time, soft porous darling.”

Even more so because a nice English site (which I later decided to link you to) presented me with many nice things, and so I wrote: "At that time (I imagine not even a bitter smirk on your lips, amen…) they had the original line-up, namely Dan McCafferty (vocals), Manny Charlton (guitar), Pete Agnew (bass), and Darrell Sweet (drums), unfortunately passing away on April 30, 1999, at 52; a second guitarist, Zal Cleminson, would join only in 1978. Produced by a certain Roger Glover, straight from a viola deeper even than Dario Argento's red." But maybe I'm shooting too much nonsense…

The album opens with the “carefree” title track, hysterical voices supported by kazoo-like gadgets, granite riffs, and a nice job of ladles banging on Teflon pans; there remains a vague impression of “I’ve heard this before.” The pounding rhythmic fabric of “Miss Misery” is embroidered with six-string slashes and aggressive singing: truly not bad hard rock. It continues with the aforementioned “Love Hurts”, quite well-known: born from a delicate fade in all its classic beauty of a tender heart typical of rough musicians. Nice guitar work and enticing voice (as much as McCafferty’s voice can be enticing).

But it’s the moment (and I use this word with due respect) for “Changin’ Times”: the harder register reopens for six minutes of joyful guitar (nice long final solo by Charlton) and a microphone brushing the uvula, in front of an essential and precise drum set in its roughness. Nothing innovative, genius, or indispensable: simply good music. “Beggars Day” follows the pattern of previous pieces: excellent bass work, sharp guitar; yet another great track, moreover with a title holding a Jethro Tull flavor that never hurts. Even more beautiful is “Rose In The Heather”, a short instrumental where, while the rhythm demonstrates its worth, the six-string takes over the singing, and it is a piercing song.

Last two tracks: “Whiskey Drinkin’ Woman” is a more conventional track, leaning (in my personal and vaguely incompetent judgment – my knowledge in the field equals an album by Lynyrd Skynyrd) towards southern rock both in the title and in the vocal and instrumental approach. Drums disguised as metronome, wall of guitars, and decidedly calm singing. And finally, there came the nine minutes/nearly ten of “Please Don’t Judas Me”. A growing chord blends on the carpet of delicate percussion phrases (poetic license) in commanding vocal tones. The guitar is hard when the chilling chorus enters (it could go on forever, “Nooo, please, don’t judas meeee…”); first the snare and then the drums don’t want to be less. The piercing scream ends again with the electric guitar, increasingly distant and suffering. Wonderful track. 

Well, the review, in some more or less unworthy way (enough to make the hair stand on end for purists of the original albums… myself included, for example) I did it. Nazareth - I find their name fantastic, by the way - are absolutely worth exploring; the LP is very good, with at least three songs as the outpost of the castle of masterpieces, and a cover perhaps more beautiful and refined than the standard hard rockers. Great discovery. 

Moreover, tomorrow in Nazareth, the Magi will also arrive.