A Glorious, Unapologetic Shout for Decadence and Joy that Caps the Definitive Glam Rock Statement
In 1972, at the white-hot zenith of the glitter-drenched, stomp-heavy Glam Rock era, four working-class lads from Wolverhampton—Slade—delivered their third studio album, Slayed? It was less an album and more a declaration of war on sobriety, a magnificent, misspelled masterpiece that catapulted to No. 1 on the UK Albums Chart, where it remained a fixture for thirty-four glorious weeks. The album was a powerhouse of anthemic originals like the chart-topping “Mama Weer All Crazee Now” and the No. 2 hit “Gudbuy T’Jane.” Yet, it’s the final track, a roaring, irresistible cover medley—“Let The Good Times Roll / Feel So Fine”—that provides the perfect, drunken, celebratory finale to one of the decade’s most essential records.
While Slade were the undisputed kings of writing their own anthems, this particular track, a cover of a classic R&B song by Shirley Goodman and Leonard Lee, was a deliberate nod to their roots as a ferocious live band. It was a staple of their grueling, legendary stage show—a track they simply had to include to capture the frenetic, “wreck concert halls to” energy of their performances. Though it didn’t track on the major international singles charts upon the album’s initial release, its sheer sonic force guaranteed it legendary status. Interestingly, it was released as a single in the US in July 1973, reflecting the American market’s different appetite for the band’s repertoire, though it failed to make a significant chart dent there, highlighting its nature as a beloved album cut that thrived on energy rather than airplay.
The story behind this particular medley is less a dramatic narrative and more a theatrical curtain call. Producer Chas Chandler, the man who also guided the careers of Jimi Hendrix and The Animals, understood that to capture Slade on record, you had to capture the sheer noise of them. The track, more than any other on Slayed?, strips away any residual studio polish and channels the raw, communal spirit of their live shows. It’s the band—Noddy Holder (vocals), Dave Hill (guitar), Jim Lea (bass), and Don Powell (drums)—at their most gloriously unhinged, trading the clever, often witty lyrical drama of their originals for the pure, visceral feeling of unadulterated Rock and Roll.
The meaning of “Let The Good Times Roll / Feel So Fine” is the most elemental and straightforward of all of Slade’s work: it is an utterly shameless, defiant anthem of hedonism, celebration, and letting go. In the early 1970s, as the dreams of the sixties were rapidly fraying, Slade offered a powerful, immediate solution: turn up the volume, lose yourself in the music, and embrace the sheer joy of living in the moment. Noddy Holder’s famously abrasive, passionate vocal delivery—a voice that sounded like it had been permanently shredded by a thousand whiskey-soaked nights—is in full, glorious effect here, imploring the listener: “Ohhh, come on baby, let the good times roll / Come on baby, let it through your soul.” It is a primal call to party, a musical equivalent of smashing a bottle of champagne against a freshly launched ship.
For those of us who remember the era—the platform boots, the glitter, the dizzying cultural shift—this track is a powerful, deeply nostalgic flashpoint. It transports you back to a sticky-floored club, to the moment the house lights would flicker, and the band would deliver this final, explosive blow. It’s the sound of youth refusing to be serious, and it stands as a timeless reminder that sometimes, the most profound musical statement is simply to shout, stomp, and “Let The Good Times Roll.”