¡lis. Faces:Faces_2012.pdf · frills, riff-based guitar rock and boisterous abandon (small...
Transcript of ¡lis. Faces:Faces_2012.pdf · frills, riff-based guitar rock and boisterous abandon (small...
P E R F O R M E R S
A S H L E Y K A H N
ONE OF R O C K & R O L L ' S M O S T I M P R O B A B L E S E C O N D - C O M I N G S
Tl here are groups that are about to rock, and bands
that simply, rock. There are those that prepare and primp until every power chord is just so, and
there are those that power up instinctively—guilelessly— with a generosity of spirit that doesn’t fade over time. The Small Faces and the Faces are kings of that latter category, two bands forming the distinct halves of one unlikely continuum—a shared timeline that writer David Fricke
rightly describes as one of rock & roll’s most “improbable second-comings.”
As the Small Faces, the group first blossomed as a foursome in swinging, mid-sixties London. During the height of psychedelia, with guitarist/singer Steve Marriott usually at the helm, they grew into a scene-leading band. After losing Marriott and recruiting two freelance blues rockers—namely Rod Stewart and Ronnie Wood—they returned to deliver some of the most carefree rock & roll
of the 19 70s. Consistent to both lineups was its rhythm section, taking its cues from the best of American R&B and blues: Ian McLagan, Kenney Jones, and second lead singer and songwriting genius Ronnie Lane.
In 1972, Lane described the scene into which the Small Faces were born, and how that music still shaped the
new Faces: “There was a big Mod era, with all the Mods taking pills down at the Marquee, and Tamla-Motown and Otis Redding was what was going down then . . . It’s still our Toots now. With this band it’s still very much in there
in the foundation.”At the start of the sixties in the drab world of postwar
England, a new generation began dressing in sharp, colorful outfits and hanging out. They were the Mods and called themselves “faces,” gobbled speed, and craved records by the Miracles, Booker T. & the MGs, and James Brown. John’s Children and the High Numbers (later renamed
the Who) became centers of the Mod scene. In 1965, a
band composed of East End teenagers—Marriott* Lane,
Jones, and guitarist/keyboardist Jimmy Winston built
an audience in and around London. Their initial set list
included only five tunes; all of short stature and good
humor, they dubbed themselves the Small Faces.They came together easily: Steve Marriott, a former
child actor, sold instruments in a music shop to both Lane
and later Winston; the Outcasts, one of Lane’s first groups,
included Jones. Their first gig in early ’65 ended with a
OPENING PAGE SmaffiFSiiig'SS'Steve Marriott, lan McLagan, Kenney Janes, and Ronnie Laneifrom left). THIS PAGE, FROM TOP darlings, 196^‘On the air in
broken piano, an irate bar manager, and the group on the
sidewalk. But before the year was over, the Small Faces
had a manager (the hard-nosed Don Arden), signed with
Decca Records, hit the U.K. charts with “Whatcha Gonna
Do About It,” and recruited the suitably diminutive Ian
McLagan to replace Winston on Hammond organ. By
1966, they were living together in Central London and
enjoying growing stardom. They appeared regularly on
Ready Steady Go! While the media portrayed the Small
Faces as safe and respectful, their live shows showed off a
rowdy, unruly side.Radio hits followed, some written for the band, others by
them: “Sha La La La Lee”; “Hey Girl”; their first U.K. chart-
topper “All or Nothing”; “My Mind’s Eye”; and “I Can’t Make
I t ” All revealed Marriott’s distinctive growl and a burgeoning
group sound, which began to lean to a harder rock tilt,
influencing a new crop of bands. Check out the Small Faces
19 66 rendition of Willie Dixon’s “You Need Loving ; it s the blueprint for Led Zeppelin’s 1970
classic “Whole Lotta Love.”The Small Faces had been living
fast and, true to their Mod roots,
fashionably, spending on account.
At the outset of ’67, realizing how
little money they had to show for
their success, the group parted
ways with Arden and Decca, and
signed with Andrew Loog Oldham’s
new Immediate imprint. Oldham,
young and connected through his
role as the Rolling Stones’ manager,
gave them free rein in the studio
and reintroduced them to an old friend from Decca days,
producer Glyn Johns.Though Immediate soon fell victim to the label’s
own creative excesses, Oldham deserves credit for giving
the Small Faces the chance to fully realize their studio
potential and develop as songwriters. From 1967 into
’68, they drew freely (and often humorously) from all
the era’s flavors—psychedelic effects like phasing and
spacey harmonies, acoustic instruments, found sounds
to create inspired, three-and-a-half-minute reflections
of their experiences, and of the times: Here Comes the
Nice” (an ode to drug Use that somehow bypassed BBC
rules of the day), “Itchycoo Park” (with its memorable
singalong line, “It’s all too beautiful. . . ”), “Tin Soldier,”
and “The Universal.”Their magnum opus was Ogdens N ut Gone Flake, an
ambitious two-part LP packaged in a round tin resembling
a tobacco can, and advertised with a print ad satirizing the
Lord’s Prayer. On one side, actor Stanley Unwin strung
together a folk-like tale between original songs; the flip
featured Cockney-flavored songs (“Lazy Sunday” and
“Rene”) and the soulful “Afterglow (of Your Love).”The Small Faces had become a creative cauldron, and
cauldrons do boil. Their musical differences pulled them
down divergent paths; they refused to play any Ogden
tracks live. Unhappy when “The Universal” failed to top
the charts, Marriott stopped writing songs. Toward the
end o f ’68, he met guitarist Peter Frampton and, hearing a
more hard-driving, two-guitar band in his future, split to
form Humble Pie. He quit the Small Faces on New Year’s
Eve, 1968.
Ultimately, the Small Faces were part o f the British
Invasion that never invaded. “ Itchycoo Park” represented
their most significant crossing, rocking American radio for
a few months in ’68.
Many heard o f the dismantling o f the Small Faces
and reached out, like Donovan, a fellow Hall o f Fame
inductee, who offered them a gig playing with him (they
respectfully declined); and guitarist Ron Wood, a friend o f
Lane’s then playing bass in the Je f f Beck Group alongside
first two years together, they would tour America no less
than four times.
There were but two hiccups." Their new record
company (Warner Bros.) insisted on keeping the old band
name; “Small” was dropped as a compromise. The second
would prove more challenging: Stewart was already signed
to M ercury as a solo artist. For five years, the singer
recorded simultaneously for the two labels, often using
members o f the Faces on his own recordings. And as his
star rose with hits like 19 7 1’s “Maggie May,” the group
repeatedly found themselves billed as “Rod Stewart and
the Faces,”
Their first three albums were
released in rapid succession in 1970
and ’71: First Step, Long Player, and A
N od Is as Good as a Wink.. . . to a B lin d
Horse (the latter reuniting them for
a third time with Glyn Johns). They
were solid playing blues or gospel-
tinged love songs and weren’t afraid to
take it slow and get teary. Thanks to
T H E I R LIVE S H O W S H A D A R O W D Y , U N R U L Y
R E P U T A T I O N
ABOVE Ron Wood, Lane, an#.find Stewart,1 w e t r i g h t The FiCWt in typk$f&#ckstage ■mode, Hoiland, 1972.
vocalist Rod Stewart. McLagan, Lane,
Jones, and Wood—soon joined by
Stewart—began jamming regularly in
a basement room in South London.
Almost immediately, they made for a
rare musical mix. Having apprenticed
in such blues-focused bands as
Steampacket, Stewart had developed
a confident, raspy vocal style; Wood’s
punchy guitar sound had a worlqnan-
like grit—minimal and effective. In
mid-1969, Stewart and Wood left
Beck’s employ, and a new, five-man
edition o f the Faces emerged. In their
Faces: Lan-e, Wood, Jones, McLaga®, and St ewa rt (f ro mieW
Lane’s influence, they had an affection for country-flavored
ballads. Whether they locked into a supple sentimental
tune or balls-to-the-wall rocker, they had an instinct for
building a great song into a loose-footed, out-and-out jam.
The Faces had a nose for tunes old and new that seemed
tailor-made: Big Bill Broonzy’s *1 Feel So Good”; Paul
M cCartneys “Maybe I ’m Amazed.” Their own songwriting
was top-rate, with a British accent, rootsy, and rough-edged:
“Around the Plynth,” “You’re So Rude,” “Three Button
Hand M e Down.” They explored other flavors as well: a
honky-tonk feel on “Debris” and “Richmond,” a soaring,
jazzy approach on “Flying.” Songs like “Had Me a Real Good
Time” and “Last Orders Please” reflected the jet-setting,
fast-moving road trip their lives had become, as they began
to accrue the rewards that had been denied the Small Faces.
But the recordings, as Jones recalled, only suggest the
full story: “The albums were an advertisement, a trailer for
what we were about. W ith the Faces, live was better.” In
England, they were favorites on various B B C T V shows,
invited back repeatedly; U.S. promoters could not get
enough o f them, and for good reason. Their performances
were informal, good-time affairs, filled with surprises and
laughs, hard fockers and impromptu covers like Ettajam es’
“ I ’d Rather Go Blind,” Luther Ingram’s “ (If Loving You Is
Wrong) I Don’t Want to Be Right,” and lots o f dancing,
joshing, pushing, and drinking. On one tour, the Faces
installed a fully stocked bar (with bartender) on the side o f
the stage, in full view o f the audience.
The Faces carried the inclusive spirit o f the sixties
well into the seventies, delivering the right mix o f no-
frills, riff-based guitar rock and boisterous abandon
(small surprise so many punk groups regarded the Faces
as stylistic forebears). They may have been rock stars, but
unlike Led Zeppelin, the Stones, or other headliners, the
Faces were accessible rock stars. Check out the security
nightmare on the cover o f A N od Is as Good. . . : the band in
full-tilt concert mode, audience members seated onstage,
a front-row fan chatting up Wood mid-song. O r listen to
“Stay W ith M e,” the hit single from the same album that
was their one entry into the U.S. Top Forty. That fuzz-
filled opening guitar riff, the drum fills kicking it into high
gear, and that delicious break on the Wurlitzer that shifts
it down to a more measured beat, the better to deliver the
song’s bold, bumbling invitation to a one-night stand: One
can’t help but be pulled in, as many female fans were. “Hey,
what’s your name again?”
The Faces had traveled far by 1973, when they began
work on Ooh La La. Their most consistent studio effort—ten
well-crafted songs that preserved both the band’s down-home
sentimentality and raw energy—came at a price. The twin
pressures o f Stewart’s increasing fame as a solo artist (his own
schedule prevented him from making most o f the sessions)
and Lane’s growing desire to step up and sing his own songs
(he wrote or cowrote six o f the album’s ten tracks) ultimately
convinced Lane it was time to break free. Ironically, it was
Wood who sang Ooh La La’s title track. It served as a swan
song for the Faces, with its melancholy refrain: “I wish that I
knew what I know now, when I was younger.”
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B O T H G R O U P S WERE S I M P L Y T O O G O O D
TO BE A R O U N D F O R T O O L O N GThe Faces knew they were a rare and special thing, and
so did their fans. How better to explain that they continued
for two more years after Lane’s departure, even as Stewart’s
solo career shifted into high gear and Wood began his
romance with the Stones? The Faces rocked on with bassist
Tetsu Yamauchi added to the lineup, touring both sides
of the Atlantic and releasing one last, live album before
railing it quits at the end of 1975. The followingyear brought
a surprise reunion of nearly all the original Sm all Faces
McLagan, Jones, and Marriott, with bassist Rick Wills—that
lasted for three years and generated two albums. Jump cut
to 2010: Wood, McLagan, and Jones joined former Simply
Red frontman Mick Hucknall and Sex Pistols bassist Glen
Matlock for a brief fling as the reformed Faces.The fates of the Faces: Marriott returned to the pubs
and clubs of Merry OP England, content to perform in the
intimate settings of his youth; tragically, in ’9 1, he died in
a fire in bis home. Stewart’s story is one of long-running
success spinning gold with gutsy blues and disco workouts,
synth pop ballads and, most recently, torch songs. In early
S i i Wood signed up with the Stones for good—a gig he
maintains to this day. In ’79, Jones was recruited by the
Who to fill the drum chair left empty by Keith Moon’s
death; most recently, he co-leads the Jones Gang. From
'f ? on, McLagan worked as a solo artist and in-demand
sideman, playing with the Stones, Jackson Browne, Bonnie
Raitt, and others; he currently resides in Austin, Texas, and
leads the Bump Band.Ronnie Lane’s path is a narrative all its own. His creative
vision led him £ £ form such projects as a brief, circus
like tour—The Passing Show—and the motley folk-rock
ensemble Slim Chance. During sessions in 77 for Rough
M ix with Pete Townshend, he was diagnosed with multiple
sclerosis; in ’83, his illness inspired the legendary A.R.M.S.
(Action and Research for Multiple Sclerosis) benefits.
A year after, Lane moved to America, and eventually
succumbed to M.S. in ’97, “Glad and sorry,” he sang ruefully
on a memorable Faces tune: “Can you show me a dream?/
Can you show me one that’s better than mine?/Can you
stand it in the cold light of day?/Neither can I.”
Both the Small Faces and the Faces were simply too
good to be around-for too long. Lane’s lyric captures the
bittersweet feeling that seems to flavor their history, the
same sentiment that accompanies their induction tonight
as neither Lane nor Marriott will be here to receive a well-
deserved statuette, nor hold it high. They were the two
who got the ball rolling back in 1964, when they met at that
East End music shop and started talking music. So set ’em
up one more time, barman, and let’s raise glasses to Steve
and Ronnie—along with Mac, Kenney, Rod, and Woody.
Cheers, mates, and welcome all Faces, small and large, to
the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame!