The Pretty
Things
Albums reviewed on this page: The
Pretty Things, Get the Picture, Emotions,
S.F. Sorrow,
Parachute, Freeway
Madness, Silk Torpedo, Savage
Eye, Cross Talk
The Pretty Things were a crass R&B band that had some early
hits, but then fell by the wayside. On the way to the wayside
they managed to do some interesting things. Supposedly a
proto-punk band because of their attitude and poor production on
their first album, they initially sounded like the English cousin of
American garage rock. Eventually, they recorded a decent album
more on the pop side that was then abused by the label, resulting in
embarrassment for all sides. Their crowning achievement is
probably the crowning achievement of any second-rate band, a slightly
derivative (and also exploratory) yet wholly entertaining concept
album, S.F. Sorrow. After that the group turned more
progressive and started shedding original members. Their last really
good album was Parachute, and then they turned commercial and bland
before splitting in the late 70s. A decent lineup returned in 1980
with Cross Talk, a (relatively) poppy new wave-ish album, but then
they broke up again. Still, their commercial 70s period must have
done well enough, as I've seen multiple copies of their albums
floating around.
Personnel: Phil May (vocals), Dick Taylor (lead guitar), John Stax (bass), Brian Pendleton (rhythm
guitar), Viv Prince (drums). Prince sacked after setting fire to a stage and other
miscreant deeds, replaced by Skip Alan. Stax
emigrated and Pendleton disappeared around the same time,
supplanted by Wally Allen (bass, guitar) and John Povey
(keyboards) for Emotions. Alan quit during
recording of S.F. Sorrow, replaced by Twink (aka John
Alder) (drums), formerly of Tomorrow.
After S.F. Sorrow, Alan returned and Victor Unitt
replaced Taylor. After Parachute, swap Peter
Tolson in for Unitt. Then Allen left, and was
replaced by Stuart Brooks. Keyboardist Gordon Edwards added
for Silk Torpedo. Finally, Jack Green replaced Brooks
in 1975. Band broke up in 1976. Reformed in 1980 for a year with May,
Taylor, Povey, Tolson, Allen and Alan.
The
Pretty Things [U.K. EP] (1964)
This
has the band's first two singles, "Rosalyn"/"Big Boss
Man" and "Don't Bring Me Down"/"We'll Be
Together", which did not appear on the UK version of their debut
LP. All appear on the re-release on the LP.
The Pretty
Things [LP] (U.K. rel. Mar. 1965), **1/2
Bands have to
have a foundation somewhere, and for British bands of the mid 60s it
was R&B. The Rolling Stones had Chuck Berry, the Who had
James Brown, and the Pretty Things had Bo Diddley, even taking their
name from one of his songs. They say that imitation is the
sincerest form of flattery, so Bo should be flattered that this is
essentially a tribute album (the brief thank you of "Pretty
Thing"). A strange dynamic is at work on the album - Phil
May's slurred, straining vocals, Viv Prince's manic drumming (often
buried in the mono mix) and the persistent Diddley "Hand Jive"
beat. But lead guitarist Dick Taylor struggles to break out of
the generic R&B mold, only succeeding on the album's big hit
"Roadrunner", with improbable, cryptic, sliding guitar
leads. Unfortunately, that driving energy is found only sparing
elsewhere on the album, not surprisingly on their prior singles
(their breakthrough hit "Rosalyn" another frantic song, and
"Don't Bring Me Down"). Other R&B standards are
either generic ("Big City") or drag ("She's Fine She's
Mine", "Unknown Blues"). Some of the vocals are
kind of funny, such as the background line of "Hey mama / Keep
your big mouth shut / Your big mouth shut", or when May
proclaims that he doesn't care if a girl is underage ("13
Chester Street", the most blatant rip-off of Slim Harpo's "Got
Love if You Want It" since the High Numbers' "I'm the
Face"). The inconsistent production hurts also, with
mysterious clicks (hand claps?) in one song ("13 Chester Street"
again), and the drums are hard to hear. Produced by Bobby
Graham, the session drummer (not labeled as such, but in the liner
notes).
The re-issue
combines the U.S. and U.K. versions, which include the tracks from
their first EP. The re-issue's liner notes try to stake some sort of
claim that this is one of the first "punk" recordings
because of their raw, energetic sound, but that doesn't hold up for
most of the album because of the reasons described. Not to
mention the mostly fact-free liner notes, and complete lack of track
information on the re-issue which irks me. You should still buy the
re-issue, as it has some previous singles on it.
The Pretty Things: Rainin' In My
Heart [U.K. EP] (1965)
Four
new tracks, all of which are now available on the Get the Picture
re-issue.
The
Pretty Things: Get the Picture (U.K. rel. Dec. 1965) ,
***1/2
Get
the Picture shows the band caught between rough and tumble R&B
and the onset of Swinging London. The Things had already made dirty
R&B their forte, having helped launch a million scruffy garage
bands with bruised renditions of "Roadrunner" and
"Rosalyn," and releasing The Pretty Things, an album
scratched out with some large miscalculations. Get the Picture is
more polished, and relies more on pop and soul than the blues. The
band turned their manic energy into verve, and created a pile of
solid, tight songs. The album is more poppy and accessible than their
debut, almost nascent power-pop, but not to the extent of The Who
Sings My Generation, released in the same month. The band reigned
in Dick Taylor, letting him solo throughout songs more than long
standout solos. With this change, Get the Picture is built on the
strong rhythm work of the drummer (upwards of three were used in the
sessions), the Pendleton/Stax duo and then Taylor's continual
playing. Phil May is on top of it all, and he's delightfully
plastered most of the time ("You Don't Believe Me", "Get
a Buzz"). Yes, this is the Pretty Things you can dance to ("Buzz
the Jerk", parts of "You'll Never Do It Baby"), even
if they do have their weaker moments (the dark, laconic "Can't
Stand the Pain"). Not everything has changed from their debut,
but slower R&B ("Rainin' in My Heart") is good in small
doses, rather than the bulk of an album. Listening to slower tracks
like the acoustic "London Town" or the soulful "Cry to
Me," you can understand why their label pushed them more towards
pop, with the crippled Emotions. Even though it failed to
chart, Get the Picture has everything that made late 65-early
66 good - solid guitars, frictionless rhythm, attitude, fuzzed guitar
("Come See Me", "Buzz the Jerk"), kicking R&B
("Gonna Find Me a Substitute") and clean living under
difficult circumstances (the bonus track "Midnight to Six Man").
The
CD re-issue includes tracks from their singles and EPs from the
period, which are generally good quality, along the lines of the
Who's power-pop ("Come See Me" takes its cues from "My
Generation"), but with more blatant society clues ("£.S.D.").
Madman Prince appears on some tracks, others have session drummer
Bobby Graham, or new member Skip Alan.
The
Pretty Things: On Film [U.K. EP] (1966)
Another
four track EP whose tracks appear on the Get the Picture
re-issue.
The
Pretty Things: Emotions (rel. May 1967), ***
The group does
not like this album, and it is easy to see why. Continuing the
movement begun with Get the Picture, the Pretty Things mutated
into a much poppier and trippy rock group, similar to the Kinks'
evolution. Acoustic guitar, piano, vocal harmonies and a toned
down Phil May make Emotions more relaxed than their earlier
work. The group also wrote all of their own material, usually
with new bassist Wally Allen, and they were good (not great)
songwriters. Emotions has the required urban life
vignettes ("House of Ten"), some forays into folk ("Growing
In My Mind") and, of course, drug references (the slide blues
"Tripping"). The
entire rhythm section is more conventional, and the loss of Pendleton
means that Taylor switched to mainly doing rhythm guitar. Even
when Taylor plays a solo it is short and sweet, like the distorted,
stinging intro to "One Long Glance." This
change is good because he was not a great soloist in the first place,
but it leaves the group without a lead instrument.
But, with May's voice as the only focal point, the record
company decided to overdub a dreadful orchestra onto some tracks,
like some horrid foreshadowing of the Moody Blues' Days of Future
Past. But where the latter was splendidly orchestrated, the
horns added here are downright annoying most of the time.
Imagine the Kinks' Face
to Face with
less verve, bad overdubbing and lower-quality songs. The horns mar otherwise fine poppier songs such as
"There Will Never Be Another Day," "Out in the Night,"
and "Photographer." This
treatment only compliments one track: the slower,
dramatic "The Sun." While the Pretty Things adjusted
to the times, the orchestra-besieged Emotions is frustrating.
The
re-issue features some songs with the annoying overdubs removed (or
actually made really quiet) and the single "A House in the
Country" / "Progress", which isn't spectacular. According
to the liner notes, Herd bassist Gary Taylor plays on the album (I
have no idea how much). Produced by Steve Rowland.
The Electric Banana (1967)
Much
as Pink Floyd would later do, the Pretty Things recorded music for
films. Many of these tracks were then released on albums credited to
the Electric Banana.
The
Pretty Things: S.F. Sorrow (1968), ****
Let's get the
story straight - this is not a rock opera. It does not have
different characters speaking, only a story told like a story.
This is still a huge innovation, and May's story of
one S.F. Sorrow is even relatively coherent given the
times and nicely divided into manageable songs. Given a free
reign in the studio (and a small budget) the group managed to produce
one of the crowning achievements of a B-list rock band. Their
method combined their newfound writing talent (May, Taylor and Allen
working with other members) with musical ideas borrowed from others
(including George Harrison's sitar). Povey and Allen both turn
out to be wonderful replacements, with Povey doubling on sitar and
Allen playing everything he can get his hands on (except drums)
including flute. The influences are so wide ranging and the
sound so interesting it would be impossible to discuss everything
(not that I would do that anyway). First off, the vocal
arranging is superb - the harmonies are complex and often eerie (the
opening of "Bracelets of Fingers" or "Balloon is
Burning"). There is a marked Indian influence on
songs like "S.F. Sorrow Is Born" and "Bracelets of
Fingers" which avoids being overdone, while the
opening of "Private Sorrow" sounds like Jethro
Tull with its
acoustic guitar and flute setting. The folky sound is still
around (the quiet closer "Loneliest Person"), and
compliments of producer Norman Smith (engineer for Sgt. Pepper's
and Piper
producer) there are tons of
strange noises, and an inoffensive psychedelic music collage ("Well
of Destiny"). Some of the band's borrowing is obvious,
such as Povey's organ made to sound like Beatle trumpet arrangements
("Private Sorrow" again). While they do a good
wholesale Beatles impersonation "Baron Saturday" with an
odd percussion interlude, pumping mellotron chorus and Lennon-like
vocal treatments, the Pretty Things have their own brand of sneering
distorted psychedelia that helps validate the claim of proto-punk
band ("She Says Good Morning", or "Old Man Going"
with Taylor's slowly red-lining guitar). However, the best song
is "Trust", a relatively straight forward piano-based song
with backing vocals straight out of early Floyd. Why it was
never released as a single is beyond me. Taylor's difficulties
with soloing are masked by the dense nature of the music, as well as
distortion. Twink is the drummer on most tracks, but was forced
out soon afterwards. Not all of the songs are great, but
they're worth hearing. A minor masterpiece.
The remastered
CD version comes with both sides of two heavy psychedelic singles
that were supposedly originally part of the S.F. Sorrow project,
"Deflecting Grey" / "Mr. Evasion" and "Talkin' About
the Good Times" / "Walking Through My Dreams". "Defecting
Grey" is a strange multi-part song that lurches from pub
sing-along to destructive rock and everything in between. The
others are also pretty top-notch songs, similar to S.F. Sorrow in
sound.
More Electric Banana (1968)
More film work.
Even More Electric Banana
(1969)
More of the same.
The Electric Banana:
Hot Licks (1970)
Must have been tough times.
The
Pretty Things: Parachute (1970), ***
Having
tried their hand at a Sgt. Pepper's, the Pretty Things now
made their Abbey Road. The band retained Phil May's more
poetic lyrics, the loosely connected album structure, and the pretty
vocal harmonies of S.F. Sorrow, but their sound has mellowed
into the pleasant swirls of a gasoline headache. The band had evolved
from bizarre fantasies to merely pleasant feelings, and while this
album rocks harder than the Beatles in some places, its few rough
edges are more unpleasant than character-building. The acoustic and
harmony approach which first flowered on Emotions has brought
the band to the opposite of their original incarnation ("The
Good Mr. Square", "In the Square", "She's a
Lover") and are good (if obvious with their sources).
Ironically, the former R&B stars' more lumbering, bluesy songs
(i.e. the "She's So Heavy" inspired), "Cries from the
Midnight Circus" or the incomprehensible "Sickle Clowns,"
are downright annoying. Fading psychedelia is still around (the
Byrdsy "What's the Use"), but the band's strong point is
now in their enticing vocals (the opening tracks), and the album's
high point is vaguely progressive, rock track which sounds like a
very, very happy Floyd cousin ("Grass"). The band chilled
out, but the loss of energy wasn't offset with inspiration.
As
an Abbey Road pretender, it is certainly far better than other
attempts at this that I've heard (i.e., Hot Wacks), but the
obvious derivation from the Beatles is a two-edged sword. The band
uses the more easily acceptable aspects like great harmonies and nice
melodies ("She Was Tall, She was High", "Parachute"),
but this only sets them up to fail when compared with the genuine
article. The band strongly lacks a sense of humor, for one. For
another, much of Parachute has the same feeling of squandered
chances that permeates the Velvet Underground's "New Age"
(although it sounds much different) - so much hope and excitment
blown, and then all you can do is take solice in some harmonies and
guitars. In other words, the band sounds more pretty than happy. May
and Waller co- wrote almost everything, and producer Norman Smith
makes it sound nice and gives them some substantial production, but
in places it sounds like later grandiose acts like 10cc or late ELO
("Parachute"). It's quite a nice listen, but much like
nobody will mistake Las Vegas' Eiffel Tower for the one in Paris,
there is a clear demarkation between the masters and the journeymen.
This
was Rolling Stones' album of the year, which was more of a vote of no
confidence in far better albums than any indication of this album's
worth. The CD re-issue includes everything else they recorded for the
progressive-oriented Harvest label with new guitarist Peter Tolson
and it is more of the same: druggy acoustic and harmony songs
("October 26") or more hard rock tracks ("Cold
Stone").
The
Pretty Things: Freeway Madness (1972), *1/2
The
manager of Skip Alan's new band Sunshine liked Parachute enough
that he re-assembled the Pretty Things. (I am uncertain if they drove
around in a black ex-police Vauxhall, wore suits and sunglasses in
order to do so). They got everyone back except Waller, who was
replaced by Stuart Brooks. That is, replaced as to the bass playing,
as the May/Waller team's Beatles knockoffs were replaced by the
output of a new May/Tolson partnership. Sadly, the returning half of
the duo also took a step downward, as May abandoned his
hyper-poetical style. Tolson was a talented guitarist, but his songs
are bland early 70s rock which continue Parachute's acoustic
underpinnings and vocal harmonies, but lack momentum or identity. You
would not think twice about most of Freeway Madness because of
this approach, even if a pair of tracks are explicitly (and oddly)
autobiographical: "Peter" about Tolson's parents and birth
(thanks for sharing that you were born via a ceasarian section,
Peter!) and the "Rip Off Train" of fame and fortune. It is
not a coincidence that Tolson was not involved in writing two of the
album's stronger (read: decent) tracks: the Povey/May authored "Love
is Good", and a May/Waller holdover in "Over the Moon."
Not that these Povey-sung tracks are heaven-sent. Without faux Beatle
song structures, Povey's raspy vocals are more out of place; he sings
Jeff Lynne, or Rod Argent withdrawing from smack. It is fine when he
provided the inauthentic Lennon-like voice for the Beatles-like
material, but grating outside of "Over the Moon", whose
melodies provide a moment of respite from the rest of the album.
Wait a second, the UK has no freeways, so why is this album even called Freeway Madness?
I guess the Rolling Stones' Album of the Year
award went to the band's head(s), and they incorporated a lot of
(mediocre) American elements. Thus, Freeway Madness has a lot of
contemporary flavors - country stylings ("Country Roads",
"All Night Sailor"), major 7th chords ("Rip Off
Train"), expansive mid-tempo rock ("Love is Good") and
vocal harmonies; everything is laid back ("Religions Dead"),
which is a shame. The Pretty Things used to rock, and you would think
that if the band had cranked it up they might have been a decent
booze-band like the Faces. Freeway Madness has only one attempt,
"Havana Bound," which sounds a bit like the New York Dolls,
but not nearly hard or loud enough. They needed some good riffs, but
even though Tolson is a decent guitarist, his work is not enough to
hold interest. It is as if the band took the atmosphere of
Parachute's "Grass", but removed its strength and
melody for most of the album, rendering their work a languid display
of exhaust. Freeway Madness is a frustration of boredom.
The
Pretty Things: Silk Torpedo (1974), **
Silk
Torpedo was the band's big attempt at a commercial rock record. A
pretty big shift from Freeway Madness, it has a roughly
glammy, retro feel, Phil May singing "straighter" and
plenty of shiny things. The best material is the least expected: two
songs of Phil May's which are essentially chirpy piano-pop, and are
oceans away from Freeway Madness's dreck. The first is the
flop single "Joey", based around Povey's piano, and a
happy! singing May, with accessories like handclaps and a Tolson rock
coda. Not your usual Pretty Things track. The second goes even
further into the land of the straight; "Is It Only Love" is
a bit of delightfully grand pop, and its enticing choruses of "Is
it only love that let's you down" will agglomerate in your head,
and a bridge from McCartney's bag of tricks. The song is a bit cheesy
(the backing singers sing "It's time to speak the truth"
early on) but Billy Joel would probably have given his wife to write
this song (and perhaps even Jon Small's). Tolson's writing had
improved - "Maybe You Tried" is cock-rock with some hooks -
and his solos are more restrained. The new guys (bassist/keyboardist
Gordon Edwards and singer Jack Green) were from Sunshine, and one of
the few descriptions I've found of that band describes it as a
"lively gospel soul / funk / hard rock band" and that has
an impact on the album's direction. The resultant vector is less
imaginative - not quite adult contemporary, but bland funky rock
("Atlanta" with the regretful line "for Atlanta I
burn", or the subsequent early Chicago-like "L.A.N.T.A."
percussion track). The Pretty Things were trying new things, and the
band sounds invigorated on the rock tracks. Still, a looseleaf
collection of trends (prog on "Bridge of God", arena rock
on "Singapore Silk Torpedo") or mild risks (discussing the
Irish question on "Belfast Cowboys") shows a band that
still had not figured out what they wanted to do. A decent, renewed
effort, but it's like starting all over again.
The
Pretty Things: Savage Eye (1976), *
Rock
music was burning itself out at this point, and Savage Eye
provides a cross-section of the process. The Pretty Things
started off as a dirty, cut-up rock band, and made a statement with
their first couple of albums, but with at each turn they borrowed
more from popular trends. This trend came to a peak on Savage Eye,
where the band crossed over into pandering to commercial tastes, and
started to really lose their identity. Silk Torpedo was a grasp at a
mass market, and Savage Eye is a grainy photography of the previous
album. The album also suffers from rock's mid-70s malaise, and the
contemporary ideal of shiny, overkill production. Plenty of rock
cliches arise: Tolson's sincere, waive-the-lighter acoustic ballad
("Sad Eye"), Bad Company-like everyday rock ("I'm
Keeping"), and meta-songs (ack). Worse, May's piano-pop has
degenerated into candy-ass schmaltz ("My Song" a song about
writing the song for a girl), and sometime lead singer Jack Green
lacks May's charisma or distinctiveness. Not all the band's choices
are outright bad: May's voice is well suited for a white soul sound
("It's Been So Long"), Povey was reasonably adventurours
with his novelty "It Isn't Rock and Roll", which
juxtapositions Tin Pan Alley with generic R&B (although the same
sort of thing would be done far better on goddamn Xanadu), and
"Drowned Man" which has some jazzy threads. The Pretty
Things was just another band it this point, and it was their own
fault. Sometimes it turns out that the rebels just wanted to be
popular after all.
The Return of the
Electric Banana (1978)
Old
habits die hard? Insert Triumverat joke.
Phil May & the
Fallen Angels (1978)
The
Pretty Things: Cross Talk (1980), **1/2
Something
close to an all-star lineup: May, Waller, Alan, Tolson, Povey and a
recussitated Dick Taylor. Co-producer John Astley was Pete
Townshend's brother-in-law and had previously worked on Who Are
You, and Cross Talk frequently resembles the more popular
band, less Townshend's creativity or sythesizer fetish ("I'm
Calling" or "Sea of Blue"). They were told old, and
too commercial to have gone punk, but at least they chose a
direction, which in itself was an improvement. So new wave it was,
and Cross Talk fit right in with 1980: lots of electric rhythm
guitars, few solos, and Povey's keyboards reduced to flourishes.
May's perpetual vocal idiosyncracies make him ideal for the taut rock
assembled behind him, even if he does cop Sting at one point ("No
Future"). The band really focused on their songs, writing a pile
of guitar-led songs that retain the old R&B flavor in parts ("I'm
Calling"), and their performances are spraightly ("Edge of
the Night," "The Bitter End" or "Office Love"
with an odd "no sex" postscript). The songs are mostly
May/Tolson, but stairwells above their previous work, and the
contemporary production fruitfully boxes in Tolson's guitar lines
("Office Love"). After the confusion in their previous
albums, a return to form is a splendid surprise, even if there are a
few minor detours (the ballad "She Don't", or the partially
tropical "Falling Again"). Cross Talk was new wave
geezer rock: shiny, a bit sleezy, energetic and unthreatening. Not a
renaissance, but we'll take it.
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