The Charlie Daniels Band
Nightrider

A fiery and vigorous fusion of American country and blues gave birth to rock’n’roll in the 1950s.

The closer ties between the USA and Europe after the Second World War, also fueled by the growing spread of records and radio, brought rock’n’roll across the Atlantic—just when people over there were already starting to get tired of it.

The English were the quickest and most skilled at absorbing and re-launching this new genre, but not only that—they also managed to elaborate it in incredible ways (with the Beatles leading the way), infusing it with the strong, varied, and profound European musical tradition (symphonic, operatic, chamber, folk), a tradition that by then had fallen into a coma after two centuries overflowing with glory.

At the same time, the ingenious Gibson and Fender electric guitars also crossed the Atlantic. So, some clever inventor, again British, began to produce massive amplifiers for them, powerful enough to mess up people’s hair and hit them right in the gut, as well as PA systems with thousands of watts able to make the ears of crowds bleed—crowds of a size never seen before. Thus was born rock, the dominant musical genre for the rest of the century.

Charlie Daniels, born in 1936, didn’t really care about symphonic/operatic influences or the European contribution to American musical tradition. As a true redneck from North Carolina, he spent his life playing country and blues, rock’n’roll and jazz, bluegrass and gospel—in other words, all 100% American music, without seasoning his musical formula with any spices from the Old Continent.

That’s why in Europe he never really made a mark… and who knows if he ever came over to play. He was a completely made-in-USA phenomenon, and he doubled down by stuffing his lyrics—and even more so his interviews and various writings—with the kind of reactionary and narrow-minded patriotism typical of his homeland.

That said, Charlie Daniels made several great records, and “Nightrider” is one of them. The sounds and production are more than perfect, instruments and vocals hit you “in the face”, jumping out of the speakers, crisp and clean, captured at their best, well-spaced and full-bodied. And the Charlie Daniels Band is a fantastic combo: Taz DiGregorio is (was) a perfect keyboardist—skilled, intelligent, and measured; the rhythm section (with two drummers) doesn’t miss a beat. The hefty, retrograde Daniels plays electric guitar, acoustic, and violin superbly, with an enviable drive and naturalness, singing out loud and clear what he thinks ought to be sung.

In my opinion, the best track is “Everything Is Kinda Allright”, a country rock ballad that’s both orthodox and crystalline, bright, sharp-edged, and multifaceted. If you immerse yourself in its world (so distant from our own), it’s simply irresistible: the acoustic guitar, dobro, and piano, the interplay and pairing of electric guitar solos—all so transparent and flawless, enveloping and winning you over.

Almost on the same level, though in a totally different style, is “Funky Junky”, which is pure runaway boogie, with Taz happily bouncing between piano and organ with his golden hands whenever the two guitarists (Daniels strictly on the right, fellow Tom Crain on the left side of the stereo image) give him space.

“Birmingham Blues”, on the other hand, is jazz rock—lively and whirling—with a great round-robin of solos, while the two drummers pump out jazz grooves with the force of rock.

“Texas” is for those who like country violin—that is, the fiddle—while “Willie Jones” is for mandolin lovers, a delightful instrument. “Franklin Limestone” is a ballad with a prestigious guitar solo from the leader, resonant and bright like no other, while “Evil” is another fine up-tempo number. The rest is less exciting.

You just can’t go around praising how great the Allman Brothers were without having a solid knowledge of the Charlie Daniels Band, much less known but even more talented.