The Sweet – Solid Gold Sweet – 2 x CD (Compilation), 1998 [r3206627] | Discogs

About the Song

Let’s step back into the vibrant world of 1974, when Sweet unleashed “Solid Gold Brass”, a track that pulses with the raw energy and swagger of their evolving sound. For those of us who’ve lived through a few musical eras, this song is a treasure—a bold declaration from a band shedding their bubblegum roots and stepping confidently into glam rock territory. Featured on their iconic album Desolation Boulevard, “Solid Gold Brass” was penned by the band’s core lineup—Brian Connolly, Steve Priest, Andy Scott, and Mick Tucker—and it’s a testament to their songwriting chops and their knack for blending grit with melody. While it didn’t chart as a single, it’s a standout deep cut that captures Sweet at a pivotal moment, straddling their past and their hard-rock future.

There’s a certain fire in “Solid Gold Brass” that hooks you right from the start. Brian Connolly’s vocals strut with a mix of defiance and allure, delivering lines like “Heart of a woman, but she’s a child” with a knowing edge that pulls you in. The song’s about a femme fatale—someone youthful yet seasoned, wild yet magnetic—and the narrator’s tangled response to her. “Solid gold brass got a mean streak, and it’s running through my veins,” he belts, and you can almost feel the push-pull of attraction and frustration. For those of us who’ve navigated life’s complexities, it’s a relatable tug-of-war—someone who drives you crazy but keeps you holding on. The repetition of that “solid gold brass” refrain, paired with a “green streak” of jealousy, paints a vivid picture of emotion running hot and wild.

Musically, this track is a delicious blend of Sweet’s signatures—those punchy guitar riffs from Andy Scott, the thumping backbone of Mick Tucker’s drums, and Steve Priest’s bass anchoring it all with a cool, steady groove. The production is tight yet unpolished, giving it a live-in-the-room feel that’s pure ’70s rock. It’s less glittery than their earlier hits like “Ballroom Blitz” but heavier, hinting at the direction they’d take with later smashes like “Fox on the Run.” For anyone who remembers the days of vinyl spinning late into the night, this song conjures up smoky venues and the thrill of a band finding its edge. The harmonies, a Sweet hallmark, soar in the background, adding depth without softening the bite.

What makes “Solid Gold Brass” linger, though, is its attitude. In an era of excess—think platform boots and economic uncertainty—Sweet channeled a rebellious spirit that still resonates. It’s not just a song; it’s a mood, a snapshot of a band breaking free from expectations and owning their sound. For those of us with a few more years behind us, it’s a reminder of when music felt dangerous and free, a call to embrace life’s messy, thrilling contradictions. So, next time you’re in the mood for something with bite, give “Solid Gold Brass” a spin. Let Sweet take you back—or maybe just keep you hanging on in there, like they always have.SWEET | New Album "Full Circle"

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Lyrics: Solid Gold Brass

Heart of a woman
But she’s a child
Something inside
That’s gonna drive you wild
You, you go take a walk
I don’t need that kind of talk
‘Cause I’m a man not a motherSolid gold brass got a mean streak
And it’s running through my veins
Solid gold brass gotta green streak
And it’s going to my brain
But she helps me hang on in there
Solid gold brass

Stars in her eyes
She’d playin’ her game
Smooth words and T birds
Her only claim to fame
Hey, just watch what you say
Don’t talk about her that way
You know I said I’m a man not a mother

Solid gold brass got a mean streak
And it’s running through my veins
Solid gold brass gotta green streak
And it’s going to my brain
And she helps me hang on in there

Solid gold brass got a mean streak
And it’s running through my veins
Solid gold brass gotta green streak
And it’s going to my brain
And she helps me hang on in there
Solid gold brass

Heart of a woman
But she’s a child
Something inside
That’s gonna drive you wild

Solid gold brass got a mean streak
And it’s running through my veins
Solid gold brass gotta green streak
And it’s going to my brain

Solid gold brass got a mean streak
And it’s running through my veins
Solid gold brass gotta green streak
And it’s going to my brain
And she helps me hang on in there
Solid gold brass

You Missed

Gary Stewart never fit the smooth, polished Nashville mold dominating the 1970s. Born in Kentucky and raised in Florida, he possessed a high, quivering vocal delivery that always sounded like it was moments away from breaking completely. Long before stepping into the spotlight himself, Stewart and his songwriting partner Bill Eldridge penned tracks for artists like Stonewall Jackson and Cal Smith. RCA signed him in the early years of the decade, though the label initially struggled to position his unique sound. Everything shifted when producer Roy Dea embraced a raw, unapologetic honky-tonk style. In 1974, “Drinkin’ Thing” broke into the Top 10, quickly followed by his signature masterpiece: “She’s Actin’ Single (I’m Drinkin’ Doubles).” Penned by Wayne Carson, the song captured a man watching his relationship dissolve while his partner acted single and he responded by drinking twice as hard. Stewart’s strained vocals transformed the lyrics from clever wordplay into a nervous breakdown captured in real time. The track soared to No. 1 in 1975, and its parent album, Out of Hand, cemented itself as one of the hardest-hitting country records of the era. Yet the deep instability captured on wax wasn’t just a theatrical performance. As the years rolled on, Stewart battled severe struggles with alcohol and prescription drugs, compounded by heavy personal tragedies that slowed his momentum through the 1980s. Though he eventually returned to live performing with a fiercely loyal cult following, the darkness in his music tragically mirrored his real life. In December 2003, Mary Lou, his wife of over forty years, passed away from pneumonia. Less than a month later, Gary Stewart died by suicide at his Florida home. His legacy was never built on radio polish. What people remembered was the haunting tension that every single syllable might snap before the song reached its end—and how Stewart somehow held it all together just long enough to tell the story.

Long before he became a household name across America, Lefty Frizzell was cutting his teeth on the grueling Texas honky-tonk circuit, tossing out casual phrases that sounded far too good to throw away. One night after a show, an eager friend from Oklahoma tried to keep the party going, prompting Lefty to reply with a golden line: “If you’ve got the money, I’ve got the time.” He hurried home and built a timeless standard right around it. Though building a massive buzz throughout West Texas, Lefty remained an unsigned artist until producer Jim Beck caught wind of his effortless vocal style and began cutting demos with him in Dallas. Armed with those early recordings—including “If You’ve Got the Money”—Beck headed straight for Nashville, initially planning to pitch the tune to Grand Ole Opry star Little Jimmy Dickens. When Dickens passed on the opportunity, it completely altered country music history. Columbia Records producer Don Law listened to the demo and realized the singer on the tape was far more valuable than any other artist he could find, signing Lefty to the label in 1950. That first historic studio session yielded a ferocious double-sided powerhouse, as both “If You’ve Got the Money, I’v Got the Time” and “I Love You a Thousand Ways” rocketed all the way to No. 1, transforming an unknown Texas kid into an overnight superstar. His distinct vocal styling—featuring loose phrasing, stretched vowels, and a conversational delivery—instantly rewrote the blueprint for honky-tonk singing, casting a massive shadow over legends like George Jones and Merle Haggard. The song Little Jimmy Dickens didn’t want didn’t just top the charts; it made the man behind the microphone impossible to ignore

By early 1973, Bobby Bare had already spent more than a decade bouncing between record labels, radio hits, and near-misses, but he was hungry to try something completely different. Captivated by Joe South’s groundbreaking Introspect, Bare dreamed of crafting a cohesive country concept album that functioned as one living world instead of just a patchwork collection of radio singles. When he pitched the idea to his songwriter friends, however, nobody wanted to touch the project. Everything changed on a Saturday night at a Country Radio Seminar party when Bare ran into Shel Silverstein and vented his frustration about failing to find a collaborator. Silverstein listened closely, and by Monday morning, Bare’s telephone was ringing with a promise that an entire album’s worth of material was ready to go. Those songs blossomed into Bobby Bare Sings Lullabys, Legends and Lies. Bare took the reins as producer, keeping the musical arrangements loose and inviting to frame Silverstein’s eccentric characters, dark humor, and folk-tale simplicity with an intimate, living-room atmosphere—even mixing in live audience reactions to make the record feel like a gathering of friends. The creative gamble paid off instantly. “Daddy What If,” recorded as a duet with Bare’s five-year-old son Bobby Jr., climbed to No. 2 on the country charts, while “Marie Laveau” soared to No. 1, marking the sole chart-topping single of Bare’s career and pushing the album into the Top 10. More importantly, that weekend spark ignited a decades-long partnership. Bare went on to record well over a hundred of Silverstein’s compositions whenever he craved material that defied standard Nashville formulas. Bobby Bare set out looking for a single concept record, but he walked away with the creative partner who would define the rest of his legendary career.