Taste
Live Taste

Gallagher, the Irish one, the right one (the other, the Mancunian, isn't really that essential), is a religion, or almost: the followers of his cult never give up and never will, forever won over by his particularly naive, stubborn, and independent character as well as by his guitar playing, the purest and most genuine ever heard.

This first live album of his life, still under the moniker of his first important band, is a bit unfortunate, sidelined by the subsequent "Taste at the Isle of Wight 1970," released at the end of the same year (1971) and greatly boosted by the film recording of the event. This was a stroke of inspiration, musical sensitivity from director Murray Lerner, who, with cameras set to film superstars like Hendrix, The Who, Moody Blues, instructed the operators, who were doing machine setup tests, to keep filming Rory and his band until the end, instantly captivated by their uncompromising rock blues.

But the trio of Taste was already in agony at that point: the usual conflicts with the bassist and drummer who wanted to be considered, artistically and financially, on par with the leader, while Rory considered them mere collaborators on his project. The same thing would soon happen to Creedence, Jethro, and many others. To avoid misunderstandings, from that moment on, Gallagher would release albums under his own name, continuing to change musicians from time to time, whether rebellious or not.

What to say about the music... there's no point in distinguishing, classifying, or arranging the five tracks (four covers) that constitute it, the album should be listened to from start to finish as a document, certificate, symbol of the man and musician Rory, through just under forty minutes of immersion in his peculiar artistic dimension. A world made of voice and guitar proudly raw and uncompromising, always authentic, rustic, loyal, frank, honest, simple. No point in dwelling on technical skill, the surprising vibrato, the bold slide, the ruthless and in-your-face sound of a Stratocaster put into a Vox Ac30 and nothing else, at full or half volume, always with exemplary, paradigmatic passion and transport.

Instead, let's talk about the cover, to close. I have a well-imprinted memory of youth with it as the protagonist: still young, with my nose pressed against the window of the music store on the main street of my city. Well arranged on the shelf in the foreground are "Fire and Water" by Free, "Bridge Over Troubled Water" by Simon & Garfunkel, and finally this album, the most striking and ready to spark the imagination of a young boy, with all those long hair, that sweat, that energy, that passion. I didn't know them yet and decided there were five playing, because you could glimpse another guitarist behind the drummer, and, on the top right and fleetingly, yet another guitar in action. Blessed innocence, I was actually in front of a rather rough but effective 1970s "photoshopped" image.

Who knows if Gallagher was homosexual. One of those unspoken... it's not to be ruled out... Women by his side were never seen, for sure. Unmarried, he played always and only, and when he wasn't playing... he drank, poor great Rory with his liver in shambles. Who cares about his sexual situation, obviously; I'm slowly acquiring the few albums of his that I still miss, and this one is the latest arrival, last year. I owed it to him and to that memory of mine.