Monday, April 18, 2005
There's been plenty of songs written about gunfighters, bad boys, cowboys gone wrong, but I find that most of them romanticise, mythologize if you like. The Eagles' "Desperado" is a good example. This, by Bad Company, has a gloomier, altogether more dirty feel to it, like a sepia portrait that's been slashed once too many times. There's no redemption here, no happy ending, no triumph of good over evil, just a stately piano, gentle washes of cymbal, and Paul Rodgers' tired, aching voice, almost pleading for an end to the running, to the fear. "Now these towns/They all know my name/Six gun sound/Is our claim to fame/I can hear them saying/Bad company/And I won't deny it/Bad company/till the day I die".