One thing I love about mid-to-late-60’s music is its unpredictability.
After listening to hundreds of new releases over the last couple of years, I’ve learned that most of the music today is despicably predictable. I can’t tell you how many times I was able to predict chord changes, instrumentation, vocal effects and builds the first time I heard a song. If you’ve heard one tune by Lana del Rey, you’ve heard them all. The same is true for most of the big names in the business: they’re more like reliable brands than creative endeavors. They may do slow songs, mid-tempo songs and fast songs; they may stick a piano in there instead of a guitar; and they all love to start songs in relative quiet before suddenly but predictably jacking up the power. The lyrics are safe, cliché and primarily consist of slogans that will eventually serve as ads for banks, jewelry and car insurance.
It would be virtually impossible today to put “Revolution #9” and “I Will” on the same album. The labels wouldn’t have it and the indies don’t have the resources or equipment to pull off something like “Revolution #9.” In the second half of the sixties, though, new approaches became the norm. Musicians were constantly experimenting, looking everywhere for new sounds and styles, breaking rules and shattering expectations.
There are few albums that shatter a listener’s expectations as much as Ogdens’ Nut Gone Flake. I promise that if you have never heard it before, your first time through will be accompanied by several “What the fucks?” Most of those who have never heard it will likely be American, for the album did absolutely nothing in the States (except for my weird and obsessive father who spent years searching for the original release in the tobacco tin and finally found one from a seller in Bath only to find the disc was warped). On the other side of the pond, it held on to the #1 spot on the album charts for six weeks. Like The Move, Small Faces never really caught on in the USA. Most Americans only know “Itchycoo Park,” which reached #16 on the Billboard charts (The Move only reached #93 with “Do Ya,” released after they technically ceased to exist and before Jeff Lynne fucking ruined it with strings in the ELO version).
So, who’s got it right with Ogdens’, the Brits who embraced it or the Yanks who ignored it? The Brits, of course! Now, as I said, you might not believe me if you listen to it once. You’ll hear a bizarre mix that includes two cockney bashes, a remake of a single that failed to chart and a fairy tale about a guy who’s looking for the other half of the moon and is helped by a fly whom he transforms into a giant fly to carry him to a mad guru, all in a weird, kaleidoscopic mix of soul, psychedelia and musical theatre.
Have I got you hooked yet? No? Well, then, do what I do before a review: listen to the album three times before you pass judgment. I guarantee you that after the third spin, the tunes will stick in your head, you’ll smile at the audacity of it all and you’ll find yourself rooting for Happiness Stan to complete his quest. And you’ll love the fucking fly! Guaranteed!
Ogdens’ is labeled a concept album, but the concept is pretty much confined to the fairy tale on side two; side one consists of individual tracks that have no apparent thematic connection. Still, there is a definite sense of unity to the whole despite the lack of an identifiable theme and the diversity of the music styles. Whether it’s the unity of a band working hard on a complex recording project in close quarters over a period of several months, or the combination of energy and commitment you hear in all the tracks is a cause-and-effect debate for historians. What I want to emphasize is that the unity is not the accidental result of the era in which Ogdens’ was created. It should not be dismissed as a period relic: there’s much more going on here than psychedelic indulgence.
Ogdens’ Nut Gone Flake opens with the title track, an instrumental based on “I’ve Got Mine,” their second single release that failed to chart in the UK way back in 1965. That failure had more to do with publicity breakdowns than the quality of the single, because by all rights it should have been a hit, if only for Steve Marriott’s killer lead vocal. On Ogden’s, this R&B number is transformed through phasing, energetic panning and plenty of reverb into a mood piece strengthened by the entry of strings in the second “verse” and Kenney Jones’ free-flow bashing on the drum kit. Ian McLagan does a fabulous job on the piano, maintaining the core beat to allow Kenney to go wild. I’ve described it as a mood piece, and the mood it creates is one of curiosity. It’s not a big “ta-da!” opener like “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” but a subtle understatement that is thoughtfully arranged and does a wonderful job of defying expectations and piquing one’s interest. Like nearly all the tunes on Ogdens’ it sticks in your head for days.
Speaking of defying expectations, how about opening the album’s beautiful, soulful love song with a mock version featuring coffee-house acoustic guitar, handclaps, stilted background singers and a cheesy, sleazy lead vocal somewhere between The Beatles’ “You Know My Name (Look Up the Number)” and The Bonzos’ “Look at Me, I’m Wonderful?” This bit of self-parody is part of what makes Ogdens’ such a delightful record, but the campiness never interferes with their ability to deliver superb music played with professional excellence. “Afterglow (Of Your Love),” once they arrive at what people know as the single, is an absolute knockout. You can’t go wrong with Steve Marriott singing in his most passionate R&B style, and he has one hell of a band supporting him in this endeavor. Ian McLagan’s work on the keyboards (organ and what sounds like a touch of modified harpsichord) is outstanding and the rhythm section of Ronnie Lane and Kenney Jones provide more than enough drive. The harmonies are first-rate, and the waves and crashes of sound certainly foreshadow the heavier rock Marriott would do with Humble Pie.
If there is a link between the songs on side one, it’s probably “never do the same thing twice.” “Afterglow” is followed by the sensuously psychedelic sounds of “Long Ago and Worlds Apart,” an intriguing song combining expected and unexpected chord combinations by Ian McLagan. The song combines the best of melodic rock with the best of hand-clapping bluesy, laid-back rock in an amazingly complex but unified composition. The instrumentation and lead vocal are drenched in the fashionable effects of the time, leaving Ronnie Lane’s bass clear and untouched—a very good thing, because the bass part could have probably been released as a solo track to ravenous applause. The harmonies and playful enthusiasm flow in abundance here, and I remain fucking amazed at how they could have packed so much complex yet coherent music into a little more than two-and-a-half minutes.
And Ogdens’ just keeps on getting better! Marriott goes cockney (his natural voice) on “Rene” to tell us the story of a dockside hooker with a firm non-discrimination policy, international influence and group discounts. Described in the Wikipedia article as one of two “psychedelic cockney knees up” songs on the album, “Rene” is a combination of tongue-in-cheek wink-wink intrigue in the verses and pour-another-pint singalong in the choruses. There’s more than a touch of musical theater here, as if Steve Marriott had decided to temporarily reconnect with his Oliver roots. Whatever the genre, style or origins, Marriott and Lane were wonderfully talented songwriters and “Rene” is a hoot. Anyone who can work Kuala Lumpur into a line and make it work is a fucking genius in my book:
She’s Rene, the docker’s delight, and a ship’s in every night
Romping with a stoker from the coast of Kuala Lumpur
Love is like an ‘ole in the wall
A line-up in the warehouse—no trouble at all
If you can spare the money, you’ll have a ball—
She’ll have your oars out!
Wisely shifting gears, “Song of a Baker” has been repeatedly identified as a song that influenced the heavy rock movement that dominated the early and mid-1970’s, largely due to Steve Marriott’s burning lead guitar work, the heavy and energetic drumming from Kenney Jones and the oomph in the harmonized lines. You can definitely imagine how the song would sound with the upgraded recording technology used by bands like Led Zeppelin and Humble Pie. I’m not a fan of the heavy rock era (Robert Plant’s voice is like fingers on a chalkboard to me), but I love this song. The relatively lo-fi sound helps dampen what I usually hear as a tendency towards over-dramatization in the heavy rock era’s vocals and instrumentation, leaving behind a very well-constructed and superbly played number that kicks ass. It was a brilliant decision not to allow Steve Marriott to sing this song, as I think it would have become way too over the top. Marriott delivers the superb harmonic lines and Ronnie Lane gives us a suitably understated vocal that works perfectly in the mix.
Steve Marriott got his knickers in a twist when Immediate Records released “Lazy Sunday” as a single, feeling it was a novelty song that didn’t deserve the status that should have been afforded Small Faces’ more serious work. He has a point, but goddamn, this is a fun little number that Marriott sings with cockney enthusiasm and the professionalism of a musical stage trooper. The arrangement is cheerfully kitchen-sink, as the band throws in bells, rolling waves and all manner of sound effects. The mood shifts back and forth between music hall bash and Sunday afternoon stillness, and despite the appeal to the average bloke, the arrangement reflects both complexity and thoughtfulness. It’s a great way to end the incredibly diverse but never discordant side one.
Side two is devoted entirely to the fairytale journey of “Happiness Stan.” Unlike their botching of the plot to A Passion Play, Wikipedia does a decent job summarizing this story:
The plot of the fairy tale is that Stan looks up in the sky and sees only half the moon; he sets out on a quest to search for the missing half. Along the way he saves a fly from starvation, and in gratitude the insect tells him of someone who can answer his question and also tell him the philosophy of life itself. With his magic power Stan intones, “If all the flies were one fly, what a great enormous fly-follolloper that would bold,” and the fly grows to gigantic proportions. Seated on the giant fly’s back Stan takes a psychedelic journey to the cave of Mad John the hermit, who explains that the moon’s disappearance is only temporary, and demonstrates by pointing out that Stan has spent so long on his quest that the moon is now full again. He then sings Stan a cheerful song about the meaning of life.
If that sounds childish and silly to you, then you’re an uptight loser who has forgotten how to play and pretend. It’s not childish—it’s child-like. Marriott and Lane (credited composers on all the songs; McLagan on three, Jones on one) made a commitment to the genre and stuck with it. As I have repeated ad infinitum in other reviews, commitment is the key to artistic success, and Small Faces are to be applauded for not trying to load “Happiness Stan” with any heavy adult-like meaning. It’s a charming fairy tale, and has more of an impact because it remains a fairy tale. You can read the full lyrics on this page at Robbie Rocks.
The music, by the way, is certifiably ab-fab.
Interspersed among the six tracks that form “Happiness Stan” is a narrative read by Professor Stanley Unwin, a British comedian famous for his gobbledegook known as “Unwinese,” which he uses with great relish in relating key developments in the story. This was a brilliant decision for several reasons: one, he has a jolly grandfather voice that is very comforting and playful; two, he takes care of a lot of narrative details that would have been boring in song form; and three, the gobbledegook adds to the playfulness of the piece, much like the work of Lewis Carroll and (at times) James Joyce. Adults listening to him may cry out in frustration, “This is nonsense!” Children, on the other hand, will understand his wordplay almost instantly. So, again, if you’re an anal, arrogant prick, you may react with disdain to language like this:
Now after a little lapse of time,
Stan became deep hungry in his tumbload.
Oh, after all he struggly tricky out several milode,
and anyone would suffer under this.
So suddenly he dood a deep thoucus,
out with his lunchy bag,
just about to do a little nibbload of his mincy meaty, when…….
If you’re open-minded and playful, you’ll giggle with delight and not only will you understand it, you will become more absorbed in the story.
After we’re all seated comfortable, too square on our botties, the music begins with the song, “Happiness Stan.” Living deep inside a rainbow, he interprets the world through colors . . . and when he looks up into the sky one night hoping to see a big fat moon, “black has stolen half the moon away!” The track opens with dreamy harp, which transforms to harpsichord when the quaint, drawing-room main theme begins. The beat shifts to heavier rock in the last passage, where Stan has made his astonishing discovery; Ian McLagan’s organ appropriately sets the mood of mystery. The following video is taken from the only “performance” (mimed) of Ogdens’ Nut Gone Flake, from the BBC show Colour Me Pop. It will give you a feel for the piece, the band and Unwinese:
After the narration, Small Faces just has to kick some ass, which they do quite well in the joyous rocker, “Rollin’ Over,” where Stan sings about the excitement of starting a noble quest. My absolute favorite piece comes next: “The Hungry Intruder.” Stan has paused his quest to have a bite to eat, and just as he’s about to dig in, he hears a faint voice, which, to his amazement, is coming from a tiny fly. Let me get something straight: I hate fucking flies. One item that made it to the top of my packing list when I moved to France earlier this year was my bug zapper, a sort of tennis-racket with battery power that zaps the crap out of any insect that dares enter my space, and flies and spiders are at the top of my public enemies list. But gosh, the fly in “The Hungry Intruder” is so disarmingly polite that it almost makes me feel ashamed about my role as insect executioner . . . almost. The theatrical dialogue here is superbly performed and rather touching:
(Fly) Here am I
May I share your Shepherd’s Pie?
(Stan) What is this strange voice I hear?
(Fly) Here I am
Look This Way
In the landscape on your tray
(Stan) There’s no need to ask a silly question
If I were you I hope you’d do the same
There’s no doubt I’d help a hungry fly out
To see you in a fix it’s really such a shame
(Fly) I’m so hungry
I could die
And no one needs a living fly
(Stan) My name is Stan
I’m on a quest
Take your fill,
Take nothing less!
I’ll never make it to Stan’s level of consciousness, but then again, I’ve never met a fly with manners.
After lunch, the fly asks Stan if there’s anything he could do for him. Stan explains his quest, and the fly mentions someone who could help. The fly explains he would gladly take Stan to this person if he wasn’t so dinky, and Stan uses his magic powers to transform the fly into the insect version of a 787. Hey, it’s a fucking fairy tale! The narrative merges into “The Journey,” a suitably psychedelic number that takes the pair to meet the man with the answers, Mad John. The song here has the feel of English folk translated for modern sensibilities as Traffic would do later with “John Barleycorn.” John is described a strange hermit to be avoided by all good children, and the lyrics that close the piece enlighten us with a powerful lesson, as all good fairy tales should:
So here was a wise one who loved all the haters
he loved them so much that their hate turned to fear
and shaking from behind their curtains the loved ones would hear.
Stan buys in to the fear to some degree, and approaches the cave with trepidation. To his delight, he receives a hearty welcome:
All whitely hair, scintilating beard and dangly,
well the beard must have been 24 years old,
to grow it and grow it, all night lode, what!
And he was glowing, with a friendly light, oh dear, joy,
and a voice full of the Cockney Cockney Cockney,
all joy of life and living, eminate from the cockload of his heartstrings.
Called to see you man ha, what’s been your hang-up man hu,
I waiting seven whole days for ya,
not still worried about this scintilating moon and dangly, huh, hu?
Mad John shows Stan that during the time Stan has spent on his quest, the moon has taken its natural course and has phased into the full moon. This “struck him like a smacker o’ blueidy,” setting up the other lesson of the tale in the closing piece, “Happy Days Toy Town.”
Life is just a bowl of All-Bran
You wake up every morning and it’s there
So live as only you can
It’s all about enjoy it ‘cos ever since you saw it
There aint no one can take it away.
The music to the finale returns to cockney music hall, clearing away any sense of heaviness that might have appeared had Small Faces decided to imbue the piece with ponderous significance, as many other psychedelic artists of the time attempted to do in their work. Fuck the search for meaning! Let’s have some fun!
It’s also the perfect ending to a record that combines deeply satisfying music with the awareness that music, at its heart, is something to be enjoyed. The great works of rock combine great lyrics with great music, and the artists who have created those works realized that music at that level of ambition still has to entertain as well as enlighten. The Beatles certainly understood that in the creation of Sgt. Pepper, The Kinks achieved that balance several times and Small Faces pulled it off in Ogdens’ Nut Gone Flake—a playful, lyrical, melodic and rocking tribute to the human imagination.
- Stephen Peter Marriott (1947-1991). . . . (stevegwilcox.wordpress.com)
[…] Small Faces, Ogdens’ Nut Gone Flake […]
A lovely fun album that effectively was this great bands’ swansong since it was shortly after it’s release Steve Marriott wanted out of the band… there was one more single “The Universal” and the band were history three or four months later.
We’re extremely lucky that TV performance survives. It was saved thanks to a BBC engineer who was assigned to wipe the tape in the early 70’s. He took a quick look at what he was to wipe over, saw it was The Small Faces and swapped tapes so he could keep it since he was a fan and knew it was an important little piece of history. It’s one of the loveliest half hours of TV I’ve ever seen since the band were in “high” spirits and watching them perform the saga of Happiness Stan adds an extra element. Seeing the band in all their finery in glorious colour… sublime.
Professor Stanley Unwin was an inspired replacement for original choice Spike Milligan. Unwin spent a day hanging out with the band in the studio sitting quietly listening and observing and the next day returned to record his narration where he inserted all the odd hippy lingo touches based upon how the Small Faces talked at the time which amused the band. “Where at man?” he talketh “where at?” Wonderful stuff.
My fave track is… “Hungry Intruder” – it’s got such a lovely ornate charm about it and I think Ray Davies was listening… listen to the Mellotron parts (especially during the instrumental break) then listen to “Phenomenal Cat” – a very similar feel and vibe.
The album shows the various sides of the Small Faces and when it rocks, it rocks as only they could with Marriott in thundering form. Again, it’s the English sense of humour I adore and I guess went over the heads of most overseas. It’s also worth tracking down the mono mix which features a unique link between two tracks on side one, one of Kenney Jones’ patented drum rolls that’s totally absent from the stereo version.
An album I’m very fond of and my personal favourite by this great band.
OK. I’ve been resisting doing this, but here goes…
Another great review about an album I’ve often heard about but had never read an intelligent word about nor had never heard a note of music from. You’ve solved both problems for me and I really like it. Thanks!
My big question for you, despite what you’ve already written on the subject, is why stop doing this? You’re obviously enjoying yourself and you’re great at what you do. Maybe you didn’t meet your own expectations, but why not change your goals instead of chucking doing something that you love?
I can understand your disappointment that your original vision did not come to pass. I still think you can build towards your musical vision. I think the fact that you’ve detached the more overtly sexual writings and images from this blog can only help focus your goal of influencing music. What I wouldn’t give to be as comfortable and confident with myself sexually as you are, but I’m not (and most people aren’t). It’s my (our) bad.
I can also understand your tiring of the constant attention from Kinks fans. Really, I can. But there is a strange power there that you can harvest to your advantage. Geoff Edgers parlayed it into a TV career, for crissakes. How about starting a Kickstarter campaign to further your writing goals (and your domain fee)? Kinks fans are suckers for that sort of thing, and would pay a lot to see your reviews more widely disseminated (even Arthur – we may not agree but you still wrote a great review).
You have a lot to be proud of, but don’t let your pride silence this blog.
OK, I know I’ve probably written too much and assumed way too much but, really, what do I have to lose? Nothing (except for probably pissing you off). You’re going away, anyway, and if there is even a .01% chance that this can change your mind, woo hoo! If not, well, can’t blame a guy for trying!
No, I’m not pissed off at all! Thank you for sharing your thoughts about this . . . “issue”.
I loved writing the Ogdens’ review because it seemed to flow so naturally and easily that it almost wrote itself. After I finished, I then went to the list I created earlier this year of other classic albums I wanted to review and felt the opposite: almost a sense of revulsion. So, I’m torn between two opposing forces.
Now, I don’t want to embarrass you with a sexual metaphor, but I will anyway! Even though I love writing about music, it feels like masturbation to me now—while it can give me a bit of a buzz, it’s nowhere near as satisfying as interactive sex. Writing to make myself happy simply won’t work for me. I hate diaries.
Anyway, tomorrow I leave on a long business trip, visiting six cities in eastern Europe in 10-12 days, and I’ll reflect on what you said and all the stuff going on inside me, then we’ll see. I think the odds are still pretty small, but you never know. I’ve started on another review that I deliberately chose because it’s a very contemplative piece, and I have much to contemplate.
And believe it or not, I’d actually thought of doing another Kinks album . . . but I put that thought on hold until I sort things out. And I wasn’t tiring of the constant attention from Kinks fans as much as I wanted to be recognized for covering a wide range of musical styles, periods and genres. If everyone else had responded the way Kinks fans did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation!
Thank you again—I will consider it.
Cool! A couple more thoughts. I finally read your reviews
of The Connections albums and their music is really good! Wow. I
guess I’d better start spreading the word. Also, just to clarify I
think your referencing your sexuality within your reviews is great
– don’t change a thing (not that you were going to)! OK, one more
thought about changing plans. I’m sure Van Gogh planned on having
two ears all of his life but shit happens. He figured out how to
use it in his art, even though he thought no one cared. Viva la
.01% chance!!! Hope you get to visit Prague. It’s the most
beautiful city at night I’ve ever seen (at least it was 20 years
ago, when I was your age!).
The Connection have been pretty damned impressive for the first album-and-a-half. I’d like to see them take their lyrics to the next level next time around like Sugar Stems did on their latest. The pisser for me is that they’ll be touring France the entire time I’m traveling; I might get to catch them in Lille on the 12th if the powers that be don’t add Oslo or Dublin.
My ever-changing itinerary does include Prague, Zurich, Warsaw, Tallinn, Helsinki and maybe the other two. I’m disappointed that we don’t have people in two of my favorite cities (Vienna and Budapest), but they’re as close as a flight from Seattle to LA now! I have been to Prague and Zurich and love them both—Prague is like being surrounded by a beautifully elaborate birthday cake and the women are seriously hot!
Reblogged this on ringingtruenet and commented:
A literary gem in her always unique style.
This is an essential album to any serious rock music collection. It’s absolutely brilliant, and I’m glad that so few Americans know about it, because otherwise we’d be hearing bits of it in stupid TV commercials. A stoned classic by a band that should be ranked with the Who and Kinks.
[…] Ogdens’ Nut Gone Flake by Small Faces […]
I’ve JUST DISCOVERED your fantastic writing; this is typical of my life, I tend to discover amazing things/people late in the day. I can certainly understand your reasoning for ending this particular endeavor (‘it’s become like masturbation”), but I just finished reading your “Preservation Acts 1 and 2” and “Ogdens Nut Gone Flake” reviews/analysis/celebrations, and they were just so beautiful, and insightful, and fresh, and…moving, at least to me. Your sexual openness is so needed in today’s world, I very much regret missing your writings in that vein. Will you be writing anything else in the future, even if it’s not about music or lovemaking? I truly hope so…I have alot of catching up to do…
Thank you so much! You’ve made my day and it’s only 8:00 a.m! Right now I have no definite plans except to get through a relocation and a remodeling of a little fixer-upper we just bought in Nice . . . and oh yeah, I’ll need to find some way to earn a living! Some of my original posts will appear on 50thirdand3rd.com from time to time, but I don’t plan on writing any new reviews. Once I get settled I’ll probably get restless and think of something . . . qui sait? I’ve promised Robert Morrow that I’ll send him posts about what’s going on with me that he can use on his blog at ringingtrue.net, so if there’s any news, it will probably appear there. Thank you again!
Thank you, Ari, for the reply and the compliment. Good luck with the relocation and the remodeling; my wife and I spent part of our honeymoon in Nice, this was way before I realized that marriage, at least in this particular instance, was probably not the most thought through thing I’ve ever done. Anyway, I was up til 3:00 AM this morning reading some of your posts…the “Soap Opera” and “S.F. Sorrow” posts were wonderful – they made me determined to go back and listen to the albums, something which very few album reviews ever get me to do. And I read the 2015 interview you did with Robert; I loved his questions, I loved your replies even more, and the way he described the end of your time together was so movingly written…yes, I will follow his blog, and hope to find out what you are doing, you seem like an amazing woman, and your girlfriend must be equally so (not to mention your parents!).
One question – will your blog remain in cyberspace for a while, or are you removing the whole thing? I’ve only just scratched the surface….
Best regards from Maryland, USA
Going in reverse, I’m not 100% sure what will happen on March 30 when I take the blog private. I thought it would end access but in reading the WordPress Q&A I get this “some posts that were published when the blog was public may still be visible to readers.” The site will still exist until the domain name expires in November, but theoretically I’ll be the only one able to see it in the interim. If you need more time, I can send you the password . . . I think.
Most of Robert’s questions come up in conversation—he’s a great, curious, nonjudgmental listener—one of the few I’ve ever met. He’s very easy to talk to and always gets me to share more than I’d like! And yes, I have wonderful parents and a remarkable partner who is my opposite in almost every way except when it comes to sex and music.
Thank you especially for noticing the Soap Opera review, which was one of my personal favorites (though it received very little attention from Kinks fans).
Having a mother from Nice was like winning the lottery at birth. I love the diversity, the free-flowing vibes, the weather, the multiple cultural influences . . . this is home, it’s where I belong. If we only had a baseball team . . .
Ah, the baseball team….that is unfortunate. Maybe you can start reading up on Cricket…whoops, wrong country.
Nice was beautiful, from what I remember of it, and from the writings of yours that I have so far been able to digest, I’m not at all surprised that it feels like home to you. Hopefully the Pairs attacks will not result in “heavy manners” from the French government, as seems to have happened in the U.S. after September 11th.
I read some of the responses from Kinks fans to your “Arthur” review…you seemed to have hit a chord there. It’s my favorite Kinks album, but it certainly has its weaknesses – the music journalist Greil Marcus described it thus: “some of it is brilliant, and some of it is crap.” I think I love it more as an album experience, and as a story, than as individual songs (same goes for “Muswell Hillbillies” and, to a lesser extent, for “Exile On Main Street” as well).
I really look forward to reading more of Robert’s blog, and his possible “reporting” on your adventures (if you don’t write about them yourself). And yes, if you don’t mind sharing the password, if you are able to, that would be lovely. Otherwise, it’ll be more late nights reading….
My two sons (we have 12 year old fraternal twin boys, oy gevalt) and I became German citizens in the summer of 2013. My late father was a German jew who was forced to flee the country in 1939; in 2012 my older brother discovered that if it could be proven that our father had to flee Germany because of religious persecution, then his children and grandchildren could apply for citizenship. It took my brother 7 months to obtain his naturalization papers; using his file number, it took us only three weeks. I’m not sure what dual citizenship can do for me at this point, but it certainly gives options to the kids. Unfortunately, my spouse and I are opposites in EVERY way…
Ari, again, all the best to you in settling into your new life, and in finding (hopefully meaningful) employment. I truly look forward to reading the rest of your blog, and whatever you are willing to share about the next part of your journey.
Paris was getting a little heavy, which is why we decided to accelerate the move. I’m pretty much on call at work until the end of April and can get to Paris pretty quickly when I need to, which so far has been once a week or so. Nice isn’t immune to the bad energy, but it’s at least tolerable, and I have plenty to keep me occupied.
Robert hasn’t been writing much lately—he’s working at a nonprofit that is consuming most of his time. Hopefully he’ll get going again soon, because he’s really a fine writer with remarkable subtlety and detachment. His description of his first marriage sounds a lot like yours, and when I hear those stories—too frequently, I’m afraid—I feel very grateful that my partner found me and overcame my skepticism.
Cheers—I’m sure I’ll pop up somewhere in the ether sooner or later.
As a transplanted English boy living in Toronto from 1963 onward I had a tendency to root for the artists of my birthland. Over the course of sixty or so years there have been a not inconsiderable number who I considered really good but who hardly made an impression in the US (Toronto and Montreal and other cities in the Great White North were sometimes more receptive. Perhaps a colonial thing). Anyway, The Small Faces are exhibit one for the proposition that from time to time the American popular music just misses the boat. Hell, they didn’t even make it to the port. Itchycoo Park is all very well but there are many others that were equally great and accessible, All or Nothing, Tin Soldier, My Way of Giving, Here Comes the Nice and, of course, Ogdens’.
Like the Kinks and The Move, SF were very English and like these groups they were occasionally not far removed from the English music hall. Listening now to Mad John, very Move like. If you hadn’t mentioned them in your review I wouldn’t have noticed. This happens to me a lot as I get older. I’ll hear a song that I’ve known well for 40 years and the light bulb will glow brightly, “shit, that is so Bowie. How did I not notice before?”
Ogdens’ is just so good through and through. The opening number is reminiscent of David Axelrod’s Songs of Innocence. It’s a soundscape rather than a song. pretty innovative for a 1968 raver. Afterglow is a lovely song featuring Stevie in full bloom. God, I love it when he emotes and I love it when he lets loose. One of the great voices of rock? I think so. Song of a Baker and Lazy Sunday are an exceptionally strong closing duo of side two – records were/are inconvenient, jumping up every twenty minutes to flip, careful in winter not to impart an electrical shock to the system and yourself. However, in retrospect, having a natural break was beneficial. Play side one now and then play a side of someone else and then return for side two. I feel guilty taking off a CD after 35 minute, with 25 remaining. it’s like I’m leaving a concert half way through!
When I heard side two for the first time I almost fell out of my chair. What was Stanley Unwin doing on a Small faces LP? I didn’t know his name but I recognized his voice and the Unwinese. I wonder what he thought of the finished product. He was, after all, 67 when he did this and 67 then was old! I came here via The Who Sell Out. The Hungry Intruder would slide nicely into that record. The Journey took me to The Yardbirds at the end (my next stop). We end with English music hall music, 100%,
Excellent observations! Someday when I have time I’d like to do a fuller analysis of why certain English bands failed to make inroads in the States. I opined that Damon Albarn’s pronounced accent had to do Parklife not catching on in the States; they only broke through when they produced the weaker but more American-sounding self-titled album. However, that theory doesn’t really apply to SF or The Move; The Kinks’ fade in the charts in the period from Face to Face to VGPS was complicated by the touring ban. As Humble Pie did pretty well in the USA, I’m not exactly sure what happened to the Small Faces. Incompetent promotion is always a possibility.
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