Jeff Beck
– Truth
Truth is where Jeff Beck took a wrecking ball to British blues, then stood in the rubble grinning with a Strat in one hand and Rod Stewart’s voice in the other. It isn’t just a pre-Zeppelin prototype—it’s a beast of its own, a swaggering, snorting, fuzzed-up take on tradition that flips Muddy Waters inside out and dares the studio to keep up. Beck doesn’t just play guitar here; he interrogates it, rips it open, and lets the feedback bleed all over the liner notes.
Best of…
This album has the kind of volatility that only happens when nobody’s quite sure what the hell they’re making—but they know it’s loud and good and worth blowing out a speaker or two. Rod Stewart, not yet a superstar, sings like a man trying to outrun his demons, while Ronnie Wood (on bass!) holds things down with loose confidence. Nicky Hopkins adds piano that tiptoes through the wreckage. It’s a Frankenstein mix: Yardbirds electricity, blues muscle, and a serious addiction to sonic risk.
But it’s Beck who keeps you glued. He slides, bends, and scrapes out tones that feel pulled from a garage full of broken amps and half-lit cigarettes. He doesn’t solo so much as explode in short bursts, letting you feel the heat without ever overstaying. Truth isn’t clean, isn’t refined—and that’s the point. It’s rock just before it calcified, blues just before it got reverent. Beck and company tear into the past to carve out something messy, loud, and completely alive.
Choice Tracks
Beck’s Bolero
A shape-shifting instrumental with Jimmy Page, Keith Moon, and John Paul Jones. It starts as a dream and ends in a fistfight—psychedelic, orchestral, and totally unhinged. A mission statement without words.
Shapes of Things
They torch the Yardbirds original, replacing precision with punch. Stewart wails, Beck roars, and the whole thing sounds like it’s skidding sideways through a war zone of reverb.
Let Me Love You
Pure blues-boil here. Stewart sells every syllable like he’s bleeding through the mic, and Beck’s guitar slashes behind him, not so much supporting as stalking. It’s primal and proud of it.
Morning Dew
A folk apocalypse retold with fog, fuzz, and fatigue. Beck’s guitar howls like the wind in a world with no survivors. Stewart sounds eerily calm, which makes it even more haunting.
I Ain’t Superstitious
Willie Dixon’s classic gets a dirty, snaky reinvention. Beck’s wah-wah tone is practically sarcastic, like the guitar is laughing in your face. It struts, it taunts, and it totally works.
Truth by Jeff Beck is an essential rock album for its pioneering role in hard rock and heavy metal. Truth features Jeff Beck’s masterful guitar work, blending blues rock with a gritty, powerful sound that was ahead of its time. With Rod Stewart’s raw, soulful vocals and Ron Wood’s driving bass, the album includes powerful renditions of classics that laid the groundwork for heavier, guitar-driven rock and influenced countless artists across rock and metal.
This isn’t a polite blues record—it’s blues turned up and torn open, fed through the amplifier until it screams. Truth doesn’t whisper history; it plugs it in and watches it burn.