Slide It In

The production is deliberately filthy — guitars pushed forward and slightly saturated, the rhythm section locked into a groove that prioritizes the body over the mind. This is among the blunter entries in the blues-rock tradition, with every element calibrated to maximize a particular kind of physical swagger. The tempo is the ideal walking pace for someone entirely too confident in themselves. Coverdale's vocal leans into the innuendo with such unashamed enthusiasm that the result tips from provocative into almost cartoonish, which is not a complaint — there's a humor operating beneath the surface that keeps the song from taking itself too seriously. Musically the band plays with a looseness that distinguishes it from their more polished recordings, as though the studio was turned down to allow for some sweat and room noise. The guitar tone on the solo is exactly the kind of mid-range growl that rewards being heard through a car stereo with the bass turned up. This belongs to a tradition of rock songs that make no apologies for being about exactly one thing and executing that singular purpose with complete commitment. Best experienced at high volume with the windows down, preferably in the company of someone who shares your sense of humor about such matters.