Review Summary: "Hair Of The Dog" remains Nazareth's artistic peak and the definitive exercise in pure hard rock.
Nowadays, hard rock's resonance pales in comparison with the popularity of heavy metal. Like a compromise between the darker side of the music and the generic rock’n’roll harmonies, the style doesn’t benefit from significant recognition, his reputation being synonymous with rhythmic cliches and dull harmonies. But, in the past, the style meant more than just a rough interpretation of classic rock motifs, being an expressive musical current that constituted one of the most respected domains of pop music. So, bands like Deep Purple and Uriah Heep defined a new musical turning point, assimilating in their sound a suite of fantasy and oriental influences which gave their style a recognizable blueprint. Another remarkable band for the development of hard rock (and even heavy metal) was Nazareth, a Scottish group that reached their popularity peak in 1974 with the all-time classic “Hair Of The Dog”.
An album that combined in a charming way the echoes of British blues with American country and folk patterns, “Hair Of The Dog” is the perfect introduction to generic hard rock. Full of rough moments crossed by soulful nuances, the record defines the brutal refinement, showing highly sincere music that encompasses the definitive orientations of the style. Also, it succeeds in a miraculous way to evade the unoriginality and give one of the most honest takes on hard rock’s sound.
Contrary to my initial expectations, the album doesn’t fully conform to the aspect of a 70s ordinary release. It feels entirely homogenous and the moments have a solid sound that makes them both accessible and powerful in expression. From the beginning represented by the fan favorite “Hair Of The Dog” (later adapted by Guns’N’Roses) to the grand finale “Please Don’t Judas Me”, the album is a splendid creation that works on multiple musical grounds. It can be perceived as a rough and masculine symphony or as a great party companion because it fully escapes the rock’n’roll dullness, in a unique way that is missed even from the others Nazareth albums.
The introductive moment feels like a sum of all the basic stylistic elements, saved by the band’s ability to give a new breath to the eventually boring structure. The rhythm shows a harsh dynamism and Dan McCafferty’s voice amplifies the abrasiveness that constitutes one of Nazareth’s conceptual pylons. It’s maybe the purest hard rock song I’ve ever heard from an English band due to the arrangement’s simplicity and concise rhythms, eviting strongly the musical agglomeration often created by an abundent inclusion of keyboards.
The second song, “Miss Misery” gives a darker interpretation of the patterns imposed by the first song, the musical spirit falling into a more pessimistic side of music. The somewhat claustrophobic spirit will be contradicted by the country sound of Randy Newman’s “Guilty” (which is a profoundly original take on a slow and almost uncoverable song). Nazareth here prove for the first time in their discography the great capacity to handle folk and country songs and to convert them to pure hard rock. I know the group made some attempts to cover contemporary songs in the previous albums (“The Ballad Of Hollis Brown” being the most notable), but they felt static and easy to pass by. Now everything is confident, solid, and memorable.
With “Changin’ Times”, the group gives another raw moment that benefits from the same abrasiveness which marked the title song. Here the arrangements know a more improvisational approach, the incipient chord succession flowing into a roots rock variation executed in Creedence Clearwater Revival’s style (another proof of the great assimilation of American rock passages).
The second side is opened by a medley constituted from Crazy Horse’s “Beggars Day” and the original composition “Rose In The Heather”. The moment clearly expresses the transition from the English blues-infused harmonies to the American-flavored approaches. This conception will touch the next song, “Whisky Drinkin’ Woman”. The finale, represented by “Please Don’t Judas Me” is a ritualic moment that unpredictably builds up a solemn atmosphere, ending the album in a mysterious tone.
Finally, “Hair Of The Dog” feels like a united attempt to create an abrasive atmosphere and to give it a unique conception that was missing in the majority of hard-rock records. So, the album is a perfect entrance into the late English rock and a spectacular proof that Nazareth was more than a one-hit-wonder band, its career not resuming only to the highly emotional “Love Hurts” (which accompanied the record’s release and was included in the American edition). It’s an unforgettable testimony that the group knew a definitive musical maturity and created a unique fusion, decisively marking the genre’s future. Largely overlooked today and appreciated strongly just by the old vinyl collectors, “Hair Of The Dog” awaits a new reappraisal of its quintessential roughness which refuses to get dust.
