Lynryd Skynyrd gets kind of a bad rap today among the "hipsters" and musical elite. I count myself as a music snob, but I love me some Skynrd, partially for nostalgic reasons, but for others, as well. There's a reason that pretty much every person my age and older knows just about every word to a dozen or so Skynyrd songs. They kicked southern ass, and ass all over the rest of the country for that matter..
Every time I hear Skynrd on the radio, I think of my dad and his Southern Rock leanings when I was a kid. The type of leanings that embraced Molly Hatchet. The type that welcomed .38 Special through our front door. The Allman Brothers and The Marshall Tucker Band, too.
I can still see those album covers. I'd pull them out of the big-ass stereo console that we and so many other families back in the 70s and 80s owned. I loved looking at those albums covers, pulling out the sleeves and seeing those scruffy beards and that long hair. Those patched, flared jeans that those southern boys wore. The greasy ole' hats and bandannas. I have to admit that I liked a lot of the music, too, even if I don't listen to it much, if ever, today by my own choice. But damn it, if a Skynyrd song comes on the radio, I'll turn the volume up and sing me a little "Sweet Home Alabama" or "Give Me Three Steps" or "Give Me Back My Bullets."
So many other tracks off of those albums I'd play over and over. Put the needle down on any Skynyrd album and you'll hear glorious piano runs and good to great guitar solos. You'll also hear well constructed songs with a whole lot of musicianship on display. It may not be you're cup of tea, but it's still good tea.
My favorite Skynyrd song, though, was "That Smell." The feel of that song haunted me. The eeriness is projected. The guitar's depressing, dark tones. Magic. And Ronnie Van Zant's lyrics were off the charts.That song is when I learned what "monkey on your back" means, and how it can refer to a whole lot of different things depending on who you're talking about.
Decades from now, when I'm old and in my 60s and I hear a Skynyrd song, I'll still think of my dad, his own scruffy beard and long hair, and how those tracks filled our house on many a morning, afternoon, and night with frickin' southern-fueled fun.
Every time I hear Skynrd on the radio, I think of my dad and his Southern Rock leanings when I was a kid. The type of leanings that embraced Molly Hatchet. The type that welcomed .38 Special through our front door. The Allman Brothers and The Marshall Tucker Band, too.
I can still see those album covers. I'd pull them out of the big-ass stereo console that we and so many other families back in the 70s and 80s owned. I loved looking at those albums covers, pulling out the sleeves and seeing those scruffy beards and that long hair. Those patched, flared jeans that those southern boys wore. The greasy ole' hats and bandannas. I have to admit that I liked a lot of the music, too, even if I don't listen to it much, if ever, today by my own choice. But damn it, if a Skynyrd song comes on the radio, I'll turn the volume up and sing me a little "Sweet Home Alabama" or "Give Me Three Steps" or "Give Me Back My Bullets."
So many other tracks off of those albums I'd play over and over. Put the needle down on any Skynyrd album and you'll hear glorious piano runs and good to great guitar solos. You'll also hear well constructed songs with a whole lot of musicianship on display. It may not be you're cup of tea, but it's still good tea.
My favorite Skynyrd song, though, was "That Smell." The feel of that song haunted me. The eeriness is projected. The guitar's depressing, dark tones. Magic. And Ronnie Van Zant's lyrics were off the charts.That song is when I learned what "monkey on your back" means, and how it can refer to a whole lot of different things depending on who you're talking about.
Decades from now, when I'm old and in my 60s and I hear a Skynyrd song, I'll still think of my dad, his own scruffy beard and long hair, and how those tracks filled our house on many a morning, afternoon, and night with frickin' southern-fueled fun.
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