Nazareth
Snakes 'n' Ladders

In this seventeenth album from the late eighties, there is somewhat of a revival of traditional sounds and atmospheres (namely: '70s rock blues) for Nazareth. The production trends of the time mark the record as dated, but the renewed ardor of the band in presenting their work makes it undoubtedly enjoyable.

“Animals” opens with a martial, hypnotic, and predictable rock blues, varied with academic evolutions of slide guitar. “Lady Luck” follows immediately with more slow blues, but this time with a shuffle rhythm, predictable yes, but beautifully gritty and rugged.

Then comes a pair of covers of well-known tracks: “Hang On To a Dream” by Tim Hardin is distorted but successful, despite the out-of-fashion pounding of the electronic drums; I recall that it was reprised twenty years earlier (with a very different sound, savasandir) by the Nice of the late Keith Emerson. “Piece of My Heart” is then indeed the one by Erma Franklin, immortalized by the desperate grit of Janis Joplin; this version by Nazareth is treated in a very AOR manner, but fortunately, the spirited and straightforward performance of singer McCafferty saves it from potential haters.

In “Trouble,” the band is right on target, with a hard rock that's certainly not groundbreaking but very enjoyable and well-crafted. More hard rock follows, but bouncy in up-tempo and adorned with synthesizer for “The Key,” graced by a fine slide guitar.

“Back to School” hits hard despite the keyboard chimes (Yamaha DX7) of the time, and there's a substantial guitar solo. Despite this, everything is vigorously swept away by the arrival of the pressing “Girls,” the four hundred thousandth ode to the girls who generously make themselves available for the relaxation and pleasure of the tired and sweaty musicians after the concerts.

The moralistic “Donna, Get Off That Crack” relies on a nimble guitar riff and little else, but the grit and toughness are right, and the group plays well, solid and well-produced; not to mention Dan McCafferty's throat, exaggeratedly gurgling to the point of being indistinguishable from Brian Johnson's (AC-DC). “See You See Me” follows, more hypnotic and relaxed, although as usual shouted by the frontman as he does, consisting of a few simple rhythmic cells in continuous repetition.

The album closes poorly with the cover of “Helpless” by Crosby Stills Nash & Young (or rather by the latter). Now, even Neil's original has always rubbed me the wrong way: too slow, with that mournful chorus that repeats endlessly without possessing, in my judgment, the harmonic melodic qualities to make it enjoyable. Nazareth then chooses to lead this cover instrumentally with a drone of organ music that increases the tedium. What can I say... it's a song I've always approached with some annoyance every time I've happened to read or hear many compliments about it.

A decent album by the old Nazarenes, therefore: three stars, also because it marks the farewell to the group of founding member Manuel Charlton. The honest six-string warrior leaves right after this album; he will form a band under his name without achieving much, eventually hanging up the instrument and enjoying retirement until being taken by his mortal illness just a year ago. His Jon Lord-like mustaches and his jet-black Andalusian hair, so un-Scottish compared to his adventuring companions, have cheered up and somehow personalized the covers and interiors of their albums. Rest in peace Manny, you weren't a champion, but a small paragraph in the long history of rock guitar is yours, as far as I'm concerned.