A Raw and Defiant Anthem of Unconditional Loyalty, a Glazed-Over Soulful Confession from the Kings of Noise.
The year 1972 belonged unequivocally to Slade. With their aggressive sound, working-class authenticity, and their now-legendary misspelt anthems, they had become the undisputed champions of the UK glam rock scene. Their third album, Slayed?, was the record that cemented their phenomenal popularity, rocketing straight to number one on the UK Albums Chart. It was a chaotic, brilliant collection that defined the era. But amidst the clamor of their self-penned hits lay an anomaly, a track that revealed a surprising depth and a cheeky defiance that few critics expected from the band of glitter-dusted yobs. That song was “I Don’t Mind.” Never released as a single, it held no separate chart position, yet its very presence is a dramatic key to unlocking the band’s true musical soul.
The story behind “I Don’t Mind” is the high-stakes drama of hidden musical sophistication. Slade was publicly perceived as a simple, loud machine, but the truth was more complex. The song is a cover, a deep cut originally recorded by none other than the “Godfather of Soul,” James Brown. The audacity of the choice was magnificent: taking a sophisticated piece of American R&B—a B-side from a smooth soul master—and smashing it through their own raw, working-class rock filter. It was a silent, musical declaration that their roots were deeper than just T. Rex and Little Richard; they were serious devotees of rhythm and blues. This inclusion was an act of rebellion, an acknowledgment of their influences that defied the glitter and the stomping stage persona they cultivated.
The song’s meaning, when filtered through the Slade machine, is one of fierce, enduring loyalty. The lyrics are a raw, emotional monologue about unconditional commitment, a confession that the narrator’s love is so deep that he is willing to accept any flaw or misstep: “I don’t mind / If you treat me unkind.” Slade’s version transforms the original’s pleading sorrow into a defiant declaration of devotion. Noddy Holder’s vocal performance is crucial to this transformation; his famous, gravelly voice, usually used for joyous shouts, is here infused with a genuine, rough-hewn sincerity. The music is a powerful piece of dramatic irony—the signature glam-stomp drums are slowed down to a menacing, heavy groove, making the song feel like a solemn oath. The guitar lines are simple, direct, and incredibly emotionally resonant, the sound of a heart beating with a deep, unwavering commitment, expressed in the only language Slade knew: loud, raw, and unequivocally true.
For those of us who embraced the intense energy of 1972, “I Don’t Mind” is a cherished secret, a poignant reminder that even the biggest, loudest glam bands had deep, unexpected musical roots. It’s a testament to the band’s willingness to risk their image for the sake of an honest homage. The song stands as a timeless, deeply emotional, and magnificent piece of musical drama, a raw, stomping declaration of eternal commitment that continues to resonate with its surprising, soulful heart.