Title:
Latest Writs Greatest Hits… The Best Of
Artist(s):
Pretty Things
El-Camel's Ratings:
Label:
Snapper Music
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Reviewer:
michael white
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The
original bad boys… so rotten they were the only band from the '60s that Johnny
admired, The Pretty Things have been present - though not so correct - at many
of the most significant shifts in style of the last thirty-odd-years. So much
so that this affectionately compiled collection is not just a history of a band
but also of music itself: especially from their conception in 1963 to the mid-'70s.
They have been
the epitomé of a visible cult for as long as they have existed. Always
there, always respected by those in the know and their more famous contemporaries,
always courting controversy, influential out of proportion to their comparatively
limited commercial success: the moniker Greatest Hits is completely tongue-in-cheek.
For those who weren't there this is a trip from the Big Beat of the early '60s
through the decade's punk, garage, psychedelia; into the self-consciously progressive
and heavy avenues of the early-'70s and on up to a present day grizzled veteran
status where, when the wind blows in the right direction, renowned vocalist
Phil May and legendary guitarist Dick Taylor (the founding bassist of the Rolling
Stones) can still turn back the years.
'Come See Me' is
the opening track to wake the dead: a crunching prehistoric monster of a bass
line mixes it with buzz saw guitar that takes no prisoners - propelling snotty
vocals that blast a gap between your ears: it's the Small Faces all fuzzed up
on attitude. The pace is unrelenting as the snide vocals of 'Don't Bring Me
Down' take off on a Nuggets style strut. 'Rosalyn' takes Jaggeresque
vocals, furiously giving it plenty of lip on a Bo Diddley maracas-fuelled thrash.
Then it all turns weird… it's kitschen sink pyschedelia: Phil gets phased, sitars
are plucked, abrasive bursts of black fuzz from Dick render relentless chop-changes
of tempo; freak out merging with toy town oom pah pah and a beery singalong
as a finale.
The psychedelic
sophistication follows with a segment of the band's 1968 rock opera SF Sorrow.
'SF Sorrow Is Born' displays the Things' orchestral oeuvre - a masterpiece
of typical late-'60s overstatement: thankfully here the bombast is kept under
tight rein and fired by a percussive chord cluster which - in the parlance of
the era - is very catchy. The drug celebration is next… '£SD' isn't about
pre-decimal money: 'All Light Up' - with its Strawberry Fields intro
- isn't about bonfire night, although getting kids from an Islington
school playground to surreptitiously provide the chorus sparked another recent
incendiary outrage.
The Pretty Things
story tokes a heavy left turn as the idealism of the drug daze gave way to the
heavy artillery of the progressive period. The energy is restored… 'Remember
That Boy' fairly crackles along in a rifftastic sort of way as Dick tailors
an obtusely anguished solo for nascent air guitarists everywhere - and slides
literally out of the track. 'Singapore Silk Torpedo' has the obligatory silly
title and gives Phil the chance to prove his all-round vocal dexterity. This
time it's a shouter in the Led Zep Plant style with hints of Rogering Daltrey…
Who, you might say. The chorus recalls Ritchie Blackmore over the Rainbow in
its streamlined palatability. 'Old Man Going' shows where Iron Maiden and their
ilk could have copped the lot from. The wizard of Phil's Ozzy-style vocal lines
lyrically suggests it was written on a rather dark Sunday. It's rock, but not
as we know it and it would take a brave old man to get going to this.
The classic 'Roadrunner'
(ahem) runs over everything in the road and is a spiky hedgehog of a track.
'Summertime' has the rolling gait of a bright sunlit day - every one gets pastoral
in the end. Stripped bare for the warm rays is Dick's country blues technique
on 'Tripping' - it's all on a knife's edge you know. 'Havana Bound' is the good
time squeal of a heavy head shake that your Mum - let alone Castro - wouldn't
like. Final track is the bitter end… no honest it is the 'Bitter End.'
Thirty-seven years
and counting… the bitter end hasn't come yet for Phil and the boys but when
it does you can bet it will be a pretty sight for once. All of which means there's
still time for you to get into the oldest punks on the block. Unrepentant after
all these years, they're the best kept secret in British rock - an institution…
although it would take one hell of an establishment to hold them in.
michael
white
The Pretty Things:
Latest Writs Greatest Hits… The Best Of - Snapper Music CD-Album SMACD823
www.snappermusic.com/theprettythings
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