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. 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. 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). Like The Move, Small Faces never really caught on in the USA. On the other side of the pond, it held on to the #1 spot on the album charts for six weeks. 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). There are few albums that shatter a listener’s expectations as much as Ogdens’ Nut Gone Flake. Musicians were constantly experimenting, looking everywhere for new sounds and styles, breaking rules and shattering expectations. 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. It would be virtually impossible today to put “Revolution #9” and “I Will” on the same album. The lyrics are safe, cliché and primarily consist of slogans that will eventually serve as ads for banks, jewelry and car insurance. 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 same is true for most of the big names in the business: they’re more like reliable brands than creative endeavors. If you’ve heard one tune by Lana del Rey, you’ve heard them all. 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. One thing I love about mid-to-late-60’s music is its unpredictability.Īfter listening to hundreds of new releases over the last couple of years, I’ve learned that most of the music today is despicably predictable.
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