Dave Hill - guitar; Noddy Holder - vocals, guitar; Jim Lea - bass; Don Powell - drums
Fast on the heels of British Glam pioneers like David Bowie and T. Rex came these boot-stomping, pub-crashing maniacs: Slade, the Pride of Wolverhampton! While Messrs. Bowie and Bolan gave the impression of obsessively cultivating their respective glittery, space-age alter-egos, Slade took nothing seriously, creating ridiculously catchy, phonetically-titled shout-along anthems for football hooligans everywhere. Their image was every bit as outrageous as their sound, replete with tartan overalls, platform clown shoes, grease paint and mutton-chops.
It's a rocky start for Slade on this summer '73 Winterland performance, but once the band hits their stride, everyone is up and on their feet. Noddy Holder wastes no time getting the crowd on his side, involving those assembled in a strange, syncopated grunt during a tribute to Janis Joplin; and a shockingly accurate Pearl-impersonation this hirsute Midlander does. For Slade, it's all about getting the crowd riled up, and the band labors to wring every last ounce from every song - like James Brown after three pints of strong ale and a sausage roll. All of it builds to a glorious climax on "Mama Weer All Crazee Now," a sentiment no doubt shared by anyone who's ever witnessed Slade's howling, banshee like vocals.
Though their records never made much of an impression stateside until Quiet Riot began covering their songs in the '80s, Slade were superstars throughout the rest of the world for their infectious songs and hilarious antics. For all those that missed out the first time - here they are. Get Slayed!