Dan
Hicks And His Hot Licks - Striking It
Rich
Dan Hicks holds an interesting place in rock history. He is beloved by people who lived through the 60’s and 70’s and just
the name of his great band The Hot Licks makes
old hippies’ eyes glaze over with stoney nostalgia for the clever, beguiling
mix of folk, swing, jazz, pop and comedy of the type that is found in abundance
on their third album, 1972’s Striking It
Rich. Yet, ask anyone under the age of 40 about Hicks and you will get the
blankest of stares. Dan Hicks came along at exactly the right moment, and while
he continued to make music until his death in 2016, his greatest impact was as
a balm for the frazzled post-60’s San Francisco music scene.
Starting with the memorable LP jacket - fashioned
like a flip-open matchbook - the album beckons you inside for something new,
yet comfortably familiar. The basic template for Hicks’ music is uptempo swing
numbers with funny, knowing lyrics and startlingly good musicianship. No drums
are to be found on this album, just the warm tones of acoustic guitars,
stand-up bass and the hair-raising violin prowess of (Symphony) Sid Page.
Hicks’ vocals are as laconic and heavy-lidded as they are slyly behind the beat
and expertly delivered - always punctuated with the flapper backing vocals of
Maryann Price and Naomi Ruth Eisenberg. This form of music was a throwback to
earlier times, but when it appeared on the heels of Are You Experienced or Raw Power it was soothing cool waters to a burning throat.
Side one of the LP remains one of my favorite
half hours of music in my collection. No album will immediately ensure a happy
mood and loud along-singing from me like Striking
It Rich. Openers “You Got To
Believe” and “Walkin’ One And Only” are
smoothly swinging slices of hipster heaven. The lack of drums helps showcase
just how proficient this band is and how sturdy the arrangements are. The sweet
acoustic guitar and walking bass are underscored by Sid Page’s memorable solos
and Hicks’ alternately poignant and hilarious delivery. Check out his drunkard’s
lament “O’Reilly At The Bar” for the latter or the gorgeous “Woe, The Luck” (on side two) for the former.
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-
Paul
Epstein
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