S.O.B – Nathaniel Rateliff And The Night Sweats

I have a desperate for a Friday Night anthem. When I’m driving home from work after a relentlessly five in a row Monday-ish week of dealing with tough decisions and frustration I feel the hand claps starting up as I pull out of the works car park. As the weeks KPI’s have been fulfilled. The reports sent off to head office and the building locked up I can count off the laundry list of outstanding activities required until the moment comes I am 100% ‘off the clock’

“I’m gonna need someone to help me, I’m gonna need somebody’s hand, I’m gonna need someone to hold me down, I’m gonna need someone to care”

So there might still need to be a stop at the garage or the supermarket. This can be a chore but it can also be the weekends opening act. I’m no advocate for retail therapy but planning a good cook and the libations to go with it is almost as pleasurable as the actual time in the kitchen with the stove, the radio and the little furry fellas catching anything you might drop before it hits the floor. Perhaps there’s something Mrs ForTheDeaf needs picking up or dropping off. Some as yet unspecified errand. Then a dog walk.

“mmmm, mmmm, mmm, mmm, mmm”

Get yer steps in before you’re calling time on this day as productive. I’m a firm believer in POETS day. Don’t go to the wire on a Friday if you can help it. The weekends are precious and hard won. Slide into them on a slope. Like a skiff launching off a ramp into the surf of Saturday Morning. It’s part of the culture where I work and I can see the relief is palpable after a long week of physical activity and early starts in my colleagues. Fridays are one last push to put these 40 plus hours of toil in the cold ground.

“I’m gonna writhe and shake my body, I’ll start pulling out my hair, I’m going to cover myself with, The ashes of you and nobody’s gonna give a damn”

I have a deal with myself. Never on a school night. If I have to rise from my pit before the sun is up or by assistance of a mobile phone alarm (does anyone use alarm clocks anymore is everything unpleasant in our lives managed by those little black rectangles?) then I’m clean and sober and interested in my hydration levels. But come Friday night? OK it’s not like we’re going out. Even before lock down that was a rarity. We’re too old for that sort of malarkey. Ever since though, without fail. We’ve needed films and music and home entertainment more than ever. So here’s the plan. Dogs inside and fed, boots washed. Shower and shave (Well The 3 S’s as my old man called it). Then once a month sit in the tub and let Mrs ForTheDeaf practice her barber skills on me (seeing as I can’t visit the Barbershop for a cheeky JD and a chat with the Italians) she’s getting quite good and then the kitchen is the jumpin’-est joint in town. Bluetooth groovin’ to The Nude Party, Nathaniel Rateliff, Jimi Hendrix, Black Pumas or Fantastic Negrito or some such while we make something delicious to declare the weekend open for business.

That’s Nathaniel Rateliff’s sweet spot. Right in there where old and new sit together sounding like there was never a 1980’s. The Night Sweats are solo artist Rateliff’s party band. Like when Ray Lamontange teamed up with his Pariah Dogs to get all home grown down home and tie one on. These boys bring big band brass and Mosley Shoals groove to the smooth soul pipes of a blues man looking to make trouble. You’ll have heard me praise Pokey LaFarge and David Ford for similar new/old vibes in recent posts. Not having to give a damn about being cool anymore is such a wonderful freedom. Oh and…

“Son of a bitch! Give me a drink”

The first beer on a Friday night is a moment. I understand it’s not for everyone. Those who have chosen the dry path I salute you. It takes a resolve and a fiber of iron. If you can do it, I love you for it. The meal is seldom fancy but it has to create an atmosphere. I want the house to smell delicious until bedtime. Which on a Friday night is seldom that late. Perhaps we go through to the front room after we’ve eaten for a game of something or another or just let Netflix treat us to a premier (their weekly new release films in 2021 have been surprisingly excellent) and that’s it. I slide under. I seldom make it past 11. 3 beers and I’m gone. Put the dogs up the garden and turn in.

“Oh oh, Oh oh, Oh oh oh oh oh

Saturday tomorrow. You’ve earned it.

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3 thoughts on “S.O.B – Nathaniel Rateliff And The Night Sweats

  1. A cold beer on a Friday night feels like absolution, a wee moment that makes the shite of the week worth it, a ticket into the weekend where your time is more your own. Now, me, I haven’t had any in 5 years (no problems, just decided it wasn’t necessary – I know I’m a weirdo) but I totally get it.

    But a Friday night anthem, THAT is an idea I can get behind completely. Especially one that’s as uplifting and catchy as this one. I’m gonna be singing this all day.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This a great tune for any day of the week but I think you’ve hit the nail on the proverbial head here calling it a Friday night anthem. I don’t think I’ve truly gotten this song out of my head since I first heard it many moons ago.

    Liked by 1 person

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