I knew it was only a matter of time before this day came. I’ve managed to go 17+ years without ever being subjected to a full Lynyrd Skynrd album. Unfortunatly, they’re one of my dad’s favorite bands, and today, that streak came to an end. Honestly, I was surprised that he held off for so long. This Dad-Rock Tuesday, I listened to Skynyrd’s sophomore effort, Second Helping. Never again.
I tried to embrace my inner-redneck before I pressed play, I really did. I searched and searched, and made a very fortunate discovery: I have no inner-redneck. I have never found Jeff Foxworthy or Larry the Cable Guy remotely funny, I prefer my iced tea unsweetened, and I own exactly zero Confederate flag t-shirts, bandannas, belt buckles, or rear windshield decals. I think it must be impossible to get into Skynyrd without an inner-redneck of some sort.
Okay, I’ll admit it, I was fairly biased going into this. Lynyrd Skynyrd has a stigma attached to them that’s fairly hard to get around. Had Second Helping blown my socks off, I’m not sure what I would have written. It would take a lot out of me to say that I enjoyed something by Skynyrd. Fortunately, this record was just what I was expecting. See Swamp Music if you don’t believe me. “Said, ‘Go ahead pretty mama’/Lord, just take your city hike/Well, I’d rather live with the hound dogs/For the rest of my natural born life.” Need I say any more?
So for possibly the only time in my life, I have to give Neil Young some credit. Southern men do, in fact, suck.
