There is no other culture so deeply fixated with it’s own past than that of music. Wallowing in nostalgia and a shared appreciation for the ‘classic’ album is, thanks to advancing technology, a godsend for the narcissistic worshipping of our own rock archives. Modernity is slowly being edged out to make way for digitally re-mastered back catalogues – a cultural divide chiselled by re-released classics – which doesn’t fill you with confidence for the longevity of this decades musical contributions. But sometimes, when our digital technology conjures up albums of the quality we have here….then it’s fucking worth the journey backwards.
Up against superior competition like The Who, The Kinks and The Rolling Stones it was always going to be a challenging time with no room for anything but the very best of abilities if domination was to be wrestled from the others. The Small Faces managed to do just that – and went on to become one of the most distinctive bands of the 60’s. Their varied musical tastes and intuitive grasp of differing styles ensured originality and a freshness when changing direction from their early R&B mod sound to poppy psychedelia. Unfortunately America never quite gave them the recognition they deserved – but they were the darlings of British youth culture and London’s favourite wide boys – cocky, energetic, sometimes whimsical with a tongue in cheek swagger who, in their short lived 4year lifespan, laid down a legacy of music which remains an influential part of history and inspired people like Paul Weller, Blur and Oasis among others. The song-writing partnership of frontman Steve Marriott and bassist Ronnie Laine proved a formidable collaboration and between them wrote some of the greatest songs of Britain’s music fuelled 60’s era. Marriot’s unique, white soul voice alongside the gifted musicianship of Laine, Kenney Jones and Ian McLagan was collective brilliance. Their career spawned 4 albums and Universal Music Catalogue are to release deluxe editions of each one.
Debut album ‘Small Faces’ released on the Decca label in 1966 followed the singles ‘What’cha Gonna Do About It’ ‘I’ve Got Mine’ ‘Sha La La La Lee’ and ‘Hey Girl’. Without a doubt it’s the weakest of their 4 albums, at times a little directionless as they traipse through a jungle of pop song structures before becoming slightly disorientated on average sounding ballad ‘ One Night Stand’ or the cluttered up sounding ‘Come On Children’. It’s the sound of a band clearly still trying to find their niche and, compared to future releases, isn’t really a true representation of the Small Faces. There are good parts to it – it’s not all bland, colourless and one dimensional. Certainly the single ‘What’cha Gonna Do About It’ stands out from the crowd as does ‘Sorry She’s Mine’. It’s an average sounding album which at times seems a bit misguided and incomplete. But the signs of individual expression they displayed at later dates can be witnessed here in their embryonic state.
Second album ‘From The Beginning’ was released by Decca (unofficially, according to the band) when they ditched the label and their manager Don Arden for up and coming Immediate Records. Though it was predominantly a greatest hits compilation of their Decca days it also contained some true gems like Marriot’s dazzling cover of the Del Shannon song ‘Runaway’, and a forceful version of Smokey Robinson’s ‘You’ve Really Got A Hold On Me’. The psychedelia drenched ‘Yesterday, Today & Tomorrow’ distinguishes a particular character of excellency. It’s on this album the Marriot/Laine song writing team really begin to flourish.
The next album was, confusingly, titled ‘Small Faces’, the same name they’d christened their debut with just over a year ago. The reasons for this, I wouldn’t know, but maybe it was some sort of esoteric disconnection (psychologically reversed of course) from their miserable Decca days. Their reasoning is likely documented somewhere I’m sure. What becomes very quickly obvious is the glaring musical differences between this record and it’s disowned namesake. The core nexus of metaphorical power was, thanks in part to Immediate Records engineer Glyn Johns and the fast maturing skills of the Small Faces both musically and lyrically, hugely psychedelic. This arty, liberating matrix of their former selves set them on the road to critical acclaim – and they did it brilliantly with new single ‘Here Comes The Nice’, their cheeky ode to drug dealers. The new concept and experimental edginess continued triumphantly onwards to next single ‘Itchycoo Park’, considered by many to be their most defining moment as a band. The summer hazed psychedelic pop song unearthed further richness in the voice of Steve Marriot, flawless and precise in its narration, showed the world just how magical his voice was. The song reached the American charts ( the only real success they ever achieved there) and won them a further army of fans. The album went on to become a huge UK best seller.
Small Faces fourth and final album, the one brimming with unambiguous confidence, humorous anecdotes and whistling whimsical joy, the album that would go on to ensure they’d always be remembered…the Cockney draped, hard rock, soft soul and drug dipped ‘Ogdens Nut Gone Flake’. The album was a resounding commercial success. The record spawned two singles, catchy cockney sing-along ‘Lazy Sunday’ and ‘Afterglow Of Your Love’.
In 1968 Steve Marriot quit the band and formed Humble Pie with Peter Frampton enjoying considerable success before splitting and going solo. He died in 1991 when a fire caused by a cigarette swept through his home as he slept. Ronnie Laine died of MS in 1997.
All four re-released albums will be 2 disc editions in both mono and stereo formats. Rare photographs and memorabilia, unreleased material, alternative USA mixes and early session versions are also included. Everything any Small Faces fan will ever want to own is right here.
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