Published on Nov 26, 1998
There once was a time that the British band Whitesnake was one
of the leading forces in solid blues-rock, even if there were
tinges of cock-rock involved. The thing about it was that there was
at least a balance between the two sides, so songs like “Slide It
In” weren’t as patently offensive as they night have been
otherwise.
I bring this up now because I recently dug the band’s second
album,
Trouble, out of the Pierce Archives to give it a spin or
two. It’s a good thing that David Coverdale and crew weren’t shot
on sight because of this lemon. Not only is the band more
interested in ridiculous sex talk (which would have at least been
laughable had it not sounded so serious), but they often forget the
whole purpose is to write decent songs, of which there are very few
on this album.
The trouble (no pun intended) starts off right at the beginning
with “Take Me With You,” a song that at least has a catchy beat, if
not much more. Coverdale immediately goes to work on his
Cassanova-in-Spandex routine – and immediately destroys the
credibility of the band for this album. Sample lines: “Gonna spread
her pretty legs so I can see / Sweet lip honey be the death of me.”
Later in the song: “I know love and what it means / It’s a skinny
little girl in tight-ass jeans.” Give me a fuckin’ break, Dave; I’d
expect this kind of shit from Hanson in heat, not from a rocker who
had to be within sniffing distance of 30 at this time.
Wait, it gets better – or is that worse? Coverdale, obviously
the poster child for NOW, continues to sign about modern love in
1978 with such ridiculous tracks as “Love To Keep You Warm” and
“Lie Down (A Modern Love Song)”. The point of the latter? From the
chorus: “Lie down, I think I love you.” (I’ll pause now so the
reader can stop laughing.) Add to that a half-assed cover of “Day
Tripper,” and you have the makings of a disaster waiting to strike
at the start of each song.
What Whitesnake almost forgets throughout
Trouble is that there are some damned fine musicians that
make up this band, something that would have been lost had it not
been for the instrumental “Belgian Tom’s Hat Trick”. Guitarists
Micky Moody and Bernie Mardsen provide some nice chops to redeem
the band in one aspect, while Jon Lord, rising from the ashes of
Deep Purple (which had broken up a couple years previous), shows
shy he is one of the most exciting keyboard players out there.
The second half of
Trouble isn’t nearly as offensive as the first, but I’d be
hard-pressed to say that tracks like “Don’t Mess With Me,” “Free
Flight” or the title track are anything spectacular. If the song is
the message, then the message I’m getting is that there’s no one
home.
Maybe
Trouble was meant to be Coverdale’s declaration of
independence from the more strict songwriting style that he
experienced as Deep Purple came to a close in the mid-’70s, or
maybe it was him trying out a new style. Who knows, maybe it was
Coverdale admitting he was a first-class horndog to rival Kiss.
Whatever the case,
Trouble is appropriately named, and is one that you can pass
on without feeling guilty about.