Rod Stewart
Never A Dull Moment

THE REVIEW

"You're not really screwed until you have a good story to tell, and someone to tell it to" (Danny Boodman T.D. Lemon "Novecento")

Luckily Rod Stewart has a good story to tell, and so do I.

At Feltrinelli, I rummage through the basket of CDs at bargain prices, and my heart stops at the sight of a familiar cover. The cover of my vinyl is now worn out, it folds open with a double page and inside there's the entire band of Roddie lined up inside a soccer goal: Ron Wood, Dick (Tricky Dicky) Powell, Quittenton, Ronnie Lane, Micky Waller... thirteen members just like a team with two substitutes. Shrunk to the compact dimensions of 12 by 12 centimeters, it seems like a little toy, and I stare at it like an idiot while two guys listening to the latest Coldplay album on headphones look pitifully at this poor soul handling cheap records destined to the oblivion of new generations. Moreover, it’s the record of someone who sucked when he crossed the Atlantic with the commercial kiddie pop of "Sailing” and "Tonight's the night"... can Coldplay produced by the immeasurable genius of Eno even compare?

I hope someone remembers the boundless ambition of this Anglo/Scottish guaglione whose rusty voice shredded the paper that tweeters were made of back then. A good midfielder in Brentford's team and singer in a dozen bands until the leap in quality when Jeff Beck recruited him in '68/'69 for"Truth" and "Beck-Ola" and then with the Faces together with Ron Wood and Ronnie Lane.

But Roddy remains in my heart for his three great solo albums from 1970 (Gasoline Alley), 1971 (Every Picture Tells a Story), and 1972 (Never a Dull Moment). All five-star records and, quoting another debaserian (imasoulman), "must-haves without ifs and buts".

Perhaps (just perhaps) my favorite is the last of the three, a mix of covers and original tracks where this man mocks us. He titles the album never a dull moment and then the cover shows him sprawled in an armchair looking at nothing. It starts with the rock onslaught in the Faces style of "True Blue" with the lyrics "... never been a millionaire/ and I tell you mama I don't care" ... and indeed, a few years later he would become immensely rich with a villa, pool, and stunning blondes. What a son of a bitch Rod is! He even forces me (for the first time in my lame career as a reviewer) to the hateful track by track analysis. Yeah, because I’ve memorized these eight tracks (excluding the short interlude of Ron Wood's acoustic guitar) and none of them deserves just a quick mention.

Rummaging through the pile, the mandolins of the robust folk rock "Lost Paraguayos" accompany another great vocal performance: Rod narrates, yells, laughs, sneers, speeds up, slows down always abetted by acoustic guitars culminating in a big band finale, and Woody's electric guitar punctuating everything is exceptional!

The Dylan cover "Mama You Been On My Mind", compared to the original, gains richness in texture and a touch of nostalgia that could only benefit it with the steel guitar in the background and the accordion interlude steering it towards the British mists rather than the sunlit American prairies... moving.

"Italian girls" involves us not only metaphorically, with that sumptuous parade of acoustic guitars that stun and the boogie piano coming and going as it pleases. When things swell at the thought of Italian girls, the electric guitars get excited for the final orgasm which is followed by a moment of peace: mandolins and violins just like at a table in a Sorrento restaurant and Rod, ingratiatingly, purrs like a big cat: "...she's broke my heart... she's broke my heart... she's broke my heart...”

Another highlight of the album: the cover of the tender "Angel" by Jimi Hendrix. The guitars bite again, and as usual, they bend to the will of Rod's wonderful voice, the percussion with congas accompanies the track before losing itself in a dreamy finale with little bells.

The great acoustic guitar work of Martin Quittenton opens "You wear it well" dedicated by Rod to his ex, the rhythm building and the fiddle running through the whole song make it a tear-jerker ballad for those who’ve ever had a heart.

Sensational is also the cover of "I’d Rather Go Blind", a slow soul that could play on repeat endlessly with those few words whispering (as much as Rod's raspy voice can whisper) "...I’d rather go blind than see you walk away...". The organ and brass section in the background create the ideal atmosphere for Roddie's voice.

The final bang is an extraordinary version of "Twistin' The Night Away" by Sam Cooke and the band goes off marvelously. The insistent rhythm by Lane/Waller and Ron Wood's guitar are a punch in the gut... This damn guy always makes me put the vinyl back on from the start, and by now, it must be the millionth time!

It was his last great album because ambition led him to conquer America, and today he lights his cigar with a Benjamin Franklin, unconcerned that masterpieces like this end up in the bargain bin next to the albums of pan flute virtuosos and the Casadei Orchestra.

I meet the two guys at the checkout again and notice their giggle of pity for the prehistoric five-euro-and-ninety-cent record I place on the counter; they flaunt the full-priced Coldplay album. I should be embarrassed but, believe me, I’ve never been so proud in front of a cashier because I have kept a good story aside and you to tell it to.