Whiskey Rock-a-Roller
Welcome to the very first episode of The Rock and Roll Whiskey Show. My name is Mark, and my two favorite things are rock and roll and whiskey. On this show, I put them both together. I listen to a rock and roll record the same way you might taste a whiskey, making observations throughout, then coming up with final thoughts and opinions at the end. After that, I pair it with a whiskey that I think matches up with the album in an important or unique way.
We’re kicking things off with one of the bands you think of first when you think about Southern rock. I’m talking about Jacksonville, Florida legends Lynyrd Skynyrd.
The setup
Skynyrd had tremendous success with their first two albums. Songs like “What’s Your Name,” “Sweet Home Alabama,” “Gimme Three Steps,” “Simple Man,” and of course “Free Bird” had already made them one of the biggest rock bands in America. Album number three, released at the height of that success, proved to be a challenge to put together for all the normal rock and roll reasons: fame, drugs, alcohol, excess, hectic touring schedules. You get the idea.
“Nothing Fancy” was recorded for the most part at Web IV Studios in Atlanta, Georgia with producer Al Kooper (with a K). Upon its release in 1975, the album managed to become their first record to reach the top 10, peaking at number nine on the Billboard Top 200. Critics had mixed feelings about it, though. Some admired the authentic touch of Southern charm and rugged blues rock. Others felt it didn’t quite measure up to the finesse and coherence of the band’s previous two records.
Let’s do some listening.
Track by track
“Saturday Night Special” opens the album with an ominous journey. Skynyrd has a sound that can be ominous at times, a power that not a lot of other bands had. I don’t think it’s because of their tragic history, which came later than this album. I think it’s just a product of their roots, their upbringing, and their location. The guitars teeter on the edge with harmonics and a real thin crunch. It feels somewhat angry and bluesy, but thin, particularly on the drums and in the guitar lead. The baseline throbs throughout, especially on the main guitar riff and in the chorus. Even though it’s not slow, it unfolds like a ballad telling two poignant stories with substantial social messages about the dangers of handguns. Something that’s still obviously relevant today. Despite the thinness, it still has a really compelling feel to it. It’s a song I like a lot.
“Cheatin’ Woman” is a time machine that transports you to a little bar, maybe in northern Florida or Mississippi, mid-seventies. The live-sounding track has guitar amps that hum and baselines that are a little muddy. It just sounds live, and it’s got a good sound. Then there’s the organ, which was actually played by Al Kooper. He was an accomplished keyboard player, and he handled the organ on this one rather than Billy Powell, who is one of my favorite rock and roll piano players. Kooper’s organ adds a really great touch, driving straight ahead with blues, and it carries that same ominous feel that “Saturday Night Special” has.
“Railroad Song” is a sonic interpretation of a journey along the railways. There’s a percussive harmonica played by Wet Willie’s Jimmy Hall, working in concert with drummer Artimus Pyle’s hi-hat. The song shares a reminiscent echo with “Train, Train” by Blackfoot, although it actually predates the version everybody knows. Rickey Medlock’s father, Shorty Medlock, wrote and recorded that song back in the sixties. (Rickey Medlock, of course, was in Blackfoot and now plays in the current touring version of Lynyrd Skynyrd.) Beyond the Blackfoot connection, I think the track draws inspiration from old gospel and blues standards like “This Train,” a song recorded by Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Big Bill Broonzy, Johnny Cash, and dozens of others over the past hundred years. That song would have been well known to Ronnie Van Zant, and I think its influence shows up in “Railroad Song.” But the track stands on its own without all of that context. The song maintains a constant tempo, rolling along the track (or rolling along the tape, I guess) until it kind of slows down toward the end. One of my favorites on the album. Put together really well.
“I’m a Country Boy” shares some musical DNA with “Railroad Song” and a couple other songs on the album. It’s lively in the chorus and delivers a message promoting Southern life while critiquing life in the big city. The song feels relevant today, with many people opting to leave the bustling city for a quieter place in the country, particularly the South. Not my favorite song on the album, but it’s got some moments.
“On the Hunt” announces itself with a strong opening riff that echoes throughout the song, almost creating a drone-like effect. The bass guitar mimics this pattern in parts. What makes the song interesting is a little flourish on the keys from Billy Powell at the end of each verse and a little bit in the chorus. That keyboard adds something unique and exciting. But the repetition of that main riff, over and over again, is a little too much for me. It’s a track I don’t return to as often.
“Am I Losin’” is an intriguing mix of sounds and vibes. Parts of it might remind you of the Steve Miller Band, something like “The Joker” and a couple of those early Steve Miller albums that were out by this time. There’s a section in the bridge that just sounds like something you’d hear on AM radio in the seventies. The solo is more akin to a Dickey Betts, Allman Brothers Band solo than a typical Skynyrd solo, which I kind of like. The Allmans are my favorite Southern rock band, one of my favorite bands period. And the ending has a little riff that tips its hat to “Sweet Home Alabama,” just a little bit. I like “Am I Losin’” a lot.
“Made in the Shade” is an old-time throwback that revives the spirit of old Delta blues with maybe a hint of ragtime, particularly in the solo and the piano parts. Listening to it might make you feel like you’re hearing a 78 RPM record on an old Victrola. The single bass drum hit that comes periodically through the song is simple but prominent. There’s a 12-bar blues baseline that really keeps the song locked in. Jimmy Hall returns with his harmonica on this one, and Ronnie Van Zant contributes with one single, kind of uninspired yodel.
“Whiskey Rock-a-Roller” is the reason I chose this album to kick off the podcast. It starts with two chords reminiscent of Led Zeppelin’s “Good Times Bad Times,” but doesn’t stay that way. It’s really just an old-time rock and roll tune. A dash of seventies country honky-tonk piano from Billy Powell is a key ingredient, along with a suspense-filled chorus that drops to halftime. The quarter notes in the rhythm guitar and baseline really build up the energy and suspense. It’s interesting how a lower tempo can sometimes build suspense. You’d think it would be the other way around, but not always. And then there’s a line in the last verse: “She likes to drink Old Granddad and her shoes do shuffle around. And every time I see that girl, Lord, she wants to take me down.” More on that in a minute. As for its placement closing the album, I would’ve put this at the start of side two and brought “Made in the Shade” in as a closer, that old-timey ragtime blues sending you off. But it’s not my call.
The verdict
All in all, “Nothing Fancy” is a good album. When compared to the band’s previous two records, as the critics said at the time, it does lack that same level of craft, production quality, and performance. There are simply more songs and better songs on “Second Helping” and “Pronounced Leh-Nerd Skin-Nerd” than on “Nothing Fancy.” There’s no real bad songs here. It just doesn’t rise to the level of those first two.
I’ve got a system on this podcast where I place each album on a metaphorical liquor store shelf. The premium albums, the top records in my mind, get a top shelf pick. Albums that are just okay land on a middle shelf. “Nothing Fancy” is getting a middle shelf placement today, right around the second-from-the-bottom to third-from-the-bottom range on a five-shelf rack. It’s enjoyable. It’s worth listening to. It’s a good album. It’s just not at the top of the heap. It’s not a premium record.
My favorites on this album: “Saturday Night Special,” “Railroad Song,” “Am I Losin’,” and “Whiskey Rock-a-Roller.”
The pairing: Old Granddad Bonded
Remember that line from “Whiskey Rock-a-Roller?” She likes to drink Old Granddad. Old Granddad, if you don’t know, is a bourbon. Not only is it a bourbon, it’s a classic bourbon brand that might bring to mind your very own granddad retrieving a bottle from that little cupboard above the fridge where he kept his liquor. You know the one.
It’s an iconic name that continues to hold its place in bourbon history. As of this recording, it’s a product of the James B. Beam Distilling Company, makers of Jim Beam, Booker’s, Basil Hayden’s, and plenty more. The name “Old Granddad” is actually a moniker for Basil Hayden Sr., which adds a fun little connection to the broader brand family.
When it comes to quality, Old Granddad isn’t just another face in the crowd on the lower shelves of the whiskey aisle, even though that’s usually where you’ll find it because of its old-brand status and low price point. The higher-proof versions, particularly Old Granddad 114, are regarded as hidden favorites among bourbon enthusiasts. For this episode, though, because I couldn’t find the 114 at my local stores, we’re going with Old Granddad Bonded.
A quick note on “bonded”
The term “bonded” or “bottled-in-bond” refers to a whiskey that meets the requirements of the U.S. Bottled-in-Bond Act from 1897. The act was designed to assure quality and authenticity, guarding against adulterated or counterfeit spirits. To carry the bottled-in-bond label, a bourbon must be the product of one distillation season (basically one calendar year), made by a single distiller at a single location, aged at least four years in a federally bonded warehouse under U.S. government supervision, and bottled at 100 proof. The label must also identify the distilling and bottling location, and the bourbon must be free of additives or coloring.
The tasting
Old Granddad Bonded’s mashbill indicates a high rye content: 63% corn (bourbons must be at least 51% corn), 20% rye, and 10% malted barley. That high rye content promises some of the flavor characteristics you’d find in a rye whiskey rather than a typical bourbon.
On the nose, you get an upfront aroma of cinnamon, complemented by some sweetness and a hint of oak from the aging. The scents are mostly pleasant and warm.
The tasting is where it gets interesting and where you start to see some parallels to “Nothing Fancy.” It’s sweet, but not overpowering. Not overly complex. The palate has a good dose of cinnamon that falls in line with the nose. There’s an intriguing taste, something like a caramel sauce drizzled over shortbread. Despite being a Jim Beam product, it doesn’t taste like Jim Beam with its corn, nuttiness, fruit, and vanilla notes. Old Granddad is a rye-forward bourbon, and it tastes like one. The experience is not flawless, though. Like “Nothing Fancy,” it’s a little thin in places. The finish has a tinge of bitterness that, luckily, doesn’t linger long. It’s quickly replaced by a sweetness that’s quite nice. The warmth and richness of cinnamon and caramel-laid shortbread return each time you take another drink, so that bitter aftertaste doesn’t stick around.
The match
This is not an expert analysis. It’s just a guy who likes to drink whiskey and listen to rock and roll. Old Granddad Bonded is kind of a mirror image of “Nothing Fancy,” even without being name-checked in the last song on the album. It’s a good bourbon. Not a great bourbon. A really good bourbon with enjoyable moments and then moments that are just all right. It’s easy to drink, just like “Nothing Fancy” is easy to listen to. They go together pretty well.
So stop what you’re doing right now (if it’s safe to do so, don’t hurt yourself), pour yourself some Old Granddad Bonded, pour it neat or however you drink it, and listen to some Skynyrd. I’ll see you next time.