The Small Faces: Their Legacy and an Appreciation

Can you name a four person band that helped produce two members of The Rolling Stones, one member of The Who and was the keystone for the mega successful solo careers of two Rock Stars of the 1970’s? I might add that this same band and its members were out in front of their better know contemporaries as regards Psychedelic Rock, concept albums, Boogie Rock and Hard Rock.

And to add a sad stereotypical Rock Star pathos to this set up, the two principal songwriters and singers in this band never achieved any of that mega success mentioned above and are now somewhat forgotten. Almost needlessly to add at this point, both died tragically and relatively young.

Well, obviously, you can name the band, it is right there in the title. Nevertheless, Steve Marriott and Ronnie Lane deserve an audio moment from your ears to appreciate what they did and the ongoing extent of their legacy. And it doesn’t hurt that anything you might hear here is fucking fantastic and probably not very familiar even if know some of the history that follows.

As befits their name, the Small Faces came up through the Mod era. “Face” being the slang for a Mod. The “Small” part of their moniker refers to their collective and relatively below average heights.

As a Mod band that came together slightly behind The Who, you would expect a similarity and you would not be disappointed there. Like them, the Small Faces specialized in R&B rave ups. That is, until they could got the hang of original songwriting.

As a bridge the band covered a reworked version of Solomon Burke’s Everybody Needs Somebody called Whatcha Gonna Do About It and it made the British charts. With that, they were off and the originals soon followed.

Problems, unfortunately, also followed the band from day one. Original keyboardist Jimmy Winston had to be replaced early on but by the much, much more talented Ian McLagan. So that turned out to be addition by subtraction rather then a distraction.

The real issues were those that beset so many of their contemporaries on both sides of the Atlantic: label shenanigans, mismanagement, visa issues and zero tolerance drug arrests.

Originally signed to Decca, the hard living band could not seem to break out of their UK niche which they blamed on management. Management, in turn, blamed said “hard living” which did — in fact — keep the band out of the US.

The Rolling Stones’ original manager — Andrew Loog Oldham — seemed to offer a breakout solution. Unlike most of the label executives of the time, he was of the same generation as the Smalls. More importantly, Andrew seemed to have credibility in the biz via the Stones. As if that weren’t enough, he had just started a new record company — Immediate. What could go wrong?

As it would turn out, a lot. Andrew was unraveling due to excess and his credibility via the Stones had run its course as had his management tenure with them. The extent a producer/manager can help sell a band — even at the top of their game — is always questionable but Andrew was in over his head at that point in his career and personal life.

Needless to say the resentments between him and the band began to accumulate almost from go. That said, Andrew gave the band unlimited, high quality studio time at Olympic and was able to obtain, via the Stones, the production services of Glyn Johns.

A free creative hand in the studio matters more in the long run, at least from a creative legacy point of view and the Smalls seized it. Ultimately, however, those managerial and financial issues would continued to dog them and would — in part — lead to their demise but by then their artistic legacy had been cemented.

I should add that they entered their prime as the musical zeitgeist was changing in London. This would be around late 1966, which meant that their original Mod approach needed a serious overhaul in the face of the rising Psychedelic scene.

That cultural shift — fortunately — suited the bands two principal songwriters to a fault. Ronnie Lane always has a pastoral, whimsical streak that meshed well with Psychedelia. Marriott too had a Folky side to him but it was his aggressive electric guitar style that fit in well with the non whimsical songs of the era: think Syd Barrett era Pink Floyd or Arthur Lee’s Love, not Hendrix to understand what I mean.

The initial results were stunning. The Smalls had caught up to their contemporaries despite the later start and management distractions. Moreover, they were willing to more directly tweak the establishment than those higher profile bands.

Take, for example, their most famous single Itchykoo Park. Rather then disguise the drug references in coded titles or poetic descriptions like John Lennon and Bob Dylan were wont to do, they just flat out stated that the reason to go to Itchykoo Park was to “get high!” And, yes, the quoted exclamation is correct, Marriott shouts the response so you can’t miss it.

No doubt their lower profile — and some double talk by Marriott — allowed that most blatant of middle fingers to pass under the noses of British blue but it didn’t help the band to get past an Ian McLagan drug bust. Consequently, this was the most important reason the Small Faces were locked out of the lucrative American touring circuit.

It was crushing in more than a financial sense as they were unable to expand their audience in the wake of their successful Itchy Park single in the US. A similar fate held back their fellow former Mods, The Kinks.

So, as mentioned, the band fell back on their only outlet: unbounded studio creativity. Inspired by the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s and bound by rotten fate to stay within their British borders, both the Small Faces and the Kinks retreated to their respective studios with a burning determination to one up their Fab competition. In that race, The Small’s Ogdens Nut Gone beat the Village Green Preservation Society to the record racks by several months.

Unlike the loose concepts of Sgt. Pepper and The Who Sell Out, however, side two of Ogdens is a narrative story or — to be more precise — a whimsical fable. That said, the format forgoes any attempt to force the narrative into song. Rather a comedic actor — Stanley Unwin — narrates the tale of a boy who sets out to find the missing half of the moon. The Smalls interweave appropriate songs into the narrative.

To be sure, the side two results are no Tommy but Tommy was still over a year away. So for the moment, the Smalls pulled ahead of their Mod contemporaries. And that is just as regards side two. What of the flip?

Side one of Ogden’s is easily the best batch of British Pop and Psychedelic Soul this side of Between the Buttons and it — more or less — closed the Psychedelic era for the British music scene as the Beatles were then working on The White Album and the Stones on Beggars Banquet. Both of those albums would dispense with incense and peppermint as — metaphorically and — to some extent — realistically speaking. — the marijuana haze was giving way to a heroin one.

So Ogden was that one last moment of Psychedelic Pop glory to frolic innocently through meadows with. The fun starts with the first track, a sort of light hearted Overture with no sense of Tommy’s foreboding in what is a similar instrumental.

It also happens to be the title track and I should mention that said title is a send up of a popular British tobacco product. To match the intended satire, the album itself was given the look of an oversized tobacco tin and later rereleases have been elaborate versions of what was originally intended to be the packaging but was never fully attempted at the time of the album’s original release.

The second track is, however, the album’s true masterpiece, an elaborate and urgent romantic number given a literal soul reading by Steve Marriott. Surrounding his aching vocals are the instrumental talents of the entire band on full display: Ian’s soaring organ and the heart beating thump of Lane’s bass and the soft roll of Kenny Jones’ drums. This is their one song to hear.

Oddly, however, it is Lazy Sunday that is the best known track among fans of the era and album. Like Itchykoo Park, Sunday is a slice of sun shiny psychedelic pop. Marriott felt it was slighter then Park and that he had only done it as a throwaway. That management released it as an Ogden single, further irritated Marriott and he allegedly left the band in mid set as 1968 came to a literal close…it was New Years Eve.

The truth is, of course, more complicated. As mentioned, the Psychedelic Pop era was ending and Steve knew something had to give creatively if he was going to be relevant in a world that was then listening to Cream, Jimi Hendrix, the Bay Area bands and — of course — the reinvented Beatles and Stones.

If you listen to the post Ogden Smalls tracks, you can clearly hear Marriott trying to turn the creative page. Those songs are all first rate and clearly achieve the step forward he was seeking but for some reason Marriott himself didn’t want to hear it and he abandoned ship.

Kicking around the scene at that exact same time was a pretty boy guitarist that was experiencing the same sort of career crossroads. Since it is a small British Pub world, it is no surprise that the two musicians — who already knew each other — would join forces as the mutual answer to their separate frustrations. And with that, Steve Marriott and Peter Frampton formed Humble Pie.

If you know Humble Pie at all, it is likely not the pre 1970 version. Both Marriott and Frampton were romantic songwriters in the highbrow sense. That is to say, they both wanted to craft big statement songs with elaborate guitar parts. Songs like Afterglow but more rustic as befit the back to basics British era of the time.

The eventual problem was that Marriott also had a risqué and playful hard rocking side as well. Moreover, in an era that included Jimmy Page, Richie Blackmore, Jeff Beck and Tony Iommi, Steve. could not also resist playing Guitar God once in a while. Musical and human nature being what it is, it didn’t help that his bandmate was a great guitarist as well.

This meant that when Steve and Peter hit the stage, there was a friendly tendency to outplay each other in the spirit of creative oneupmanship. This approach sold tickets but strayed from their original vision of Pie.

Straining the situation further, Pie got a new manager — Dee Anthony — in 1970. He correctly sensed that younger American male audiences only wanted to see heavy guitar fireworks similar to the sounds Led Zeppelin was then cross crossing the country with.

He goaded the boys into blasting high volume decibels over a receptive Fillmore East Audience and released the results as a live album. The LP was a hit and the Pie was seemingly locking itself into a certain playing style that — Frampton at least — was a bit uneasy with.

Missing the more subtle approach of Pie’s early years, Frampton soon went solo. This would be the eventual problem mentioned earlier but that would be for Pie. For Frampton it turned out to be his moment. As the era recedes further into the past, it is almost forgotten that Frampton had a hard earned mega solo success for a year or two in the mid 1970’s.

Never a first class song writer, Frampton’s immediate post Pie albums were spotty. Worse, the production was dull and his best songs struggled to be heard over the lack of a din. That all changed when he recorded his best solo songs in a live setting. Those tunes came alive in concert and so the mega album of its era was named.

Many forces came together to undo Frampton’s instant superstardom. As a perpetual well meaning, hardworking artist few of those forces were of his making. He should have made a hard pass on movie-stardom but Disco and Punk were more of a factor in the undoing of his mega success.

To his credit, he not only survived, but sustained a long musical career that is only recently winding down because of health issues. That is a cruel and undeserved fate for any good soul and I thank him for his best. But where did that leave Humble Pie?

Just when Frampton walked, Marriott had finally realized the sort of creative and financial success he had been striving for since he first picked up a guitar. No doubt he had a moment of panic and it may have contributed to his doubling down on the hard, boogie rocking approach the American audiences were eating up at the time. But, unbeknownst to him, the times they were a-changing for Pie too.

The same forces that sank Frampton, sank Humble Pie. Hard Rock had played out and the energy was swinging toward the Punks. It didn’t help that Marriott was burned out creatively and a victim of excess — which in his case was primarily alcohol. He exited Pie and released a solo effort that aligned more closely to his post Ogden and early Humble Pie sound but the Rock audience had moved on without him.

Marriott, for the most part, entered a long period of drift and substance abuse in the late seventies but in one of his periodic attempts to right his creative ship, he revised the Small Faces moniker, which at this point now requires a flash back to see whatever happened to those guys…

Did you know that Ronnie Wood has a brother? Art Wood was his name and he sadly passed away at the too young age of 69.

But the reason I mention him is that he more or less replaced Steve Marriott in the Small Faces which were then renamed Quiet Melon. Now this gets a bit tricky but Art invited his brother Ron to join the band and Ron brought along this guy named Rod Stewart.

What made the situation tricky is that Ronnie and Rod were then current members of the high profile Jeff Beck Group. They were slightly younger then their band leader and a bit put off by his aloof nature (I should mention that others claim Jeff is super nice and funny guy so maybe he changed or the story is a bit garbled). So Ron and Rod were looking for a Beck exit ramp and — apparently the vibe around the Melon suited them.

After making the historically necessary introductions, Art Wood left Melon and the remaining five brought back the Faces name without the Small part because neither Ronnie or Rod were slight of stature. But that does not end the complications surrounding the coming together of this band.

Rod, it seems, had harbored a solo career ambition even before he joined Beck. In fact, he more or less recorded his solo debt while recording the Faces debut and he saw the band as a backup plan in case the solo stuff didn’t pan out. It also didn’t hurt that when just hanging out together in their off hours, the Faces were famously a good time.

Now an argument can be made that Rod held back his best materials for his solo work and the Faces albums suffered as a result but there is a more charitable way to look at it. By everybody appearing on all the relevant albums of the era at the same time, you can surmise that nobody initially felt slighted or cheated.

In fact, they are sort of two sides of the same coin as each album shifts between similar moods. The Stewart albums are more softer American Blues Folk and the Faces more British Folk. The later, however, has a bigger helping of energetic and crunchy sound on the balls to the wall rockers, which — as you might might have guessed by my compromising tone — is not exactly absent on the Stewart albums either.

Rather, the real internal issue within the Faces was Stewart’s solo mega success. There is no denying that it was only Rod’s name on the better selling solo LP’s despite what the jacket credits might have actually said. And it it is to the name on the cover that the royalties go. As the riches accumulated for Rod so did the tension among the other four Faces.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the first Face to crack was Ronnie Lane. He was a masterful songwriter but he was literally and figuratively being overshadowed by Stewart.

Initially, Lane let Rod sing his co-written songs but when you don’t have the publishing notes in front of you, guess who gets the credit? This may have burned Lane to some degree but perhaps not. Since I was not there I couldn’t tell you.

What I can say for certain is that Lane began to sing his own Faces songs and while they are brilliant, his understated tenor is way different from Rod’s attention getting rasp.

That Lane sings the penultimate Faces song — Oh La La — should have been the ego leveling triumph the band needed to keep going. But as fate would have it, Lane left which likely made it easy for Rod to leave the band not long after.

As a fan of Rock, and the Faces in particular, this was a greater musical loss then we will ever know because it was all pointless, irreconcilable and, most importantly, every member of the the band suffered creatively in some way because of it. In other words, they were stronger together then apart.

My assertion here is easy to argue: Stewart was never the same solo artist that he was when the Faces and Ronnie Wood in particular played on his albums. Ronnie was not the same guitarist with the Stones as he was with the Faces and Kenny Jones was strangely unappreciated in a long stint with The Who.

The saddest fate, however, awaited Ronnie Lane after the breakup. While it was always doubtful he would achieve mega success with his songs and his singing, it was more then abundantly clear he deserved and had earned a long critically appreciated career with his ability to write mature and sophisticated tunes. But, alas, he was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in the late 1970’s and everyday life almost immediately became a physical struggle for him.

And so long as we are summing up the legacy of the Faces, I should mention that Ian McLagan also joined the Stones as their keyboardist in their last era of true greatness. And even after that ended, he had a long and varied career. Unfortunately, he passed away before achieving extreme old age which — to my mind — is always too young.

Finally, Steve Marriott tragically and incedibly burned to death in an early 1990’s house fire that started when. he passed out in a drunken stupor while smoking. When you combine Steve’s horrific but quick death with the slow painful one for Lane, it is hard not to question the cruel nature of fate.

That is not to absolve Marriott for the hand he played in his own demise. But at the same time his demons could not be the full measure of the man and, indeed, there is proof otherwise.

As mentioned earlier, Steve Marriott attempted several comebacks including one that revived the Small Faces. That effort lacked Ronnie Lane and, perhaps, for that very reason, it didn’t work. So that should be the end of the story…except that it isn’t .

Somehow, someway, Steve convinced a very sick Ronnie Lane to cut some tracks in the early 1980’s. Working together, they put the past aside and focused on the one thing that they had both excelled at in their best years: writing and singing interesting adult themed songs and. delivering them with soulful subtlety. And as befits both their luck at the time, the proposed album languished until after they had both passed on.

When somebody finally had the good sense to release it in the early 2000’s, the album was titled Majik Mijits in yet another reference to their small stature. But way more importantly, it served as the proper coda and memorial for two artists that had otherwise almost been robbed of a final and fitting creative say for no reason that will ever make sense. It is fItting because it is a charmer from end to end. One that will literally make you smile.

Even its way after the fact release date is part of its unintentional cosmic message to us. Its high spirits comes out after their sad fate and our grief. And that is something we can call hope or redemption or whatever the hell it is that makes it all worth a shit. That and all the great music here is worthy of such a notion.

1) Talk To You — Small Faces: After a label change and some wood shedding, the Smalls released their first all originals album and it is a gem. This particular tune was one of the singles off or it and it is a neat blend of The Who and the Stones. That said, note the front and center piano on the verse to verse transitions. Neither of those other bands had a Mac.

2) Rolling Over — Small Faces: This is the second number from the concept side of Ogden’s. If you can catch them, the lyrics are essentially setting out the Hobbit like journey the main character — named Happiness Stan — is about to embark on.

The band is in full swing here and even a voice as strong as Marriott’s has to work to be heard over their collective racket. Of special note is the Moon-like cymbal and snare fills Kenny rolls out toward the fade. It is almost as if he was auditioning for a slot in The Who. If only Tommy had this level of audio production and volume.

3) You, Me And Us Too — The Small Faces: A stomping, heavy track that demonstrates that Marriott could have taken the band in the direction he was envisioning for Humble Pie. Why he couldn’t see it is a bit of a mystery.

While Humble Pie is better remembered as Hard Rock Boogie band, that was only one side of what Steve intended and — indeed — delivered. A compromise solution — which Marriott apparently considered — was bringing Peter Frampton into the Small Faces. A fascinating road not taken.

4) Take Me Back — Humble Pie: And this is the half of the Pie you are probably less familiar with… Sounds a little like the Light side of that Light And Shade band you may have heard of?

5) Sweet Lady Mary — Faces: Steve — of course — could sing and play but that Rod guy wasn’t too shabby. Ron overdubs himself in a neat triple guitar part that will again leave you wondering where that player is on most of his Stone work.

All that aside, this is a stellar romantic song showing what this new band could accomplish by joining forces. The specific roll call here are Lane, Stewart and Wood who co-wrote the tune and Ian who supplies the heart tugging organ sweeps. Oh and that is probably Kenny on the tambourine…a real group effort here!

6) Do You Feel Like We Do — Peter Frampton: As mentioned above, Peter’s best solo songs came out somewhat flat in their studio takes. In concert, it was a different matter and this song sort of proves it. The just above tepid tempo and extended run time should have made this number a numb-er but it has a certain charm live.

Even that talk box thingie Peter employees at the break works a bit here and you almost want to sing along. Most importantly, you don’t have to take my word for it, this was a moderate hit as a single.

It is hard not to feel for Frampton here. This was clearly a culmination of many years of hard work. Despite the golden long hair and handsome face, he was finally being appreciated for his talent.

That everything — including the hair — slipped away is mostly not his fault. Perhaps just as Steve should have stick it out with the Smalls, maybe Peter would have been better off staying with Pie.

Of course, that would be a spatial anomaly, but by the late 1980’s Peter was apparently reconsidering at least some aspects of being a strict solo artist. He not only worked extensively with David Bowie but he was trying to work on a full project with Steve Marriott that was only cut short by Marriott’s death.

7) Thunderbox — Humble Pie: After Frampton’s departure, Marriott soldiered on with replacement guitarist Clem Clempson. He more or less doubled down on the Hard Rock Boogie approach but, just as the music scene was passing his former bandmate by, so too would the same fate swamp Pie.

8) April Fool — Ronnie Lane: Stretching back to the Mod era, The Small Faces and The Who had been friendly rivals. So Pete Townshend and Ronnie Lane were no strangers. Moreover, both were at a bit of a crossroad in1977. Lane had been out of the Faces for a few years but his excellent solo material was still seeking an audience.

Somewhat similarly, Townshend was at the start of a decade long crisis of conscious. Artistically, Pete wanted to move toward a more abstract form of songwriting and Ronnie represented the sort of approach he had in mind.

So it was suggested that they work together just not in the co-writing sense. That would be a Townshend quirk that continues to this day. Lane, on the other hand, was a veteran collaborator in two different bands but could write alone — like Pete — if need be.

The entire album — A Rough Mix-is a masterpiece. Understated but lyrical in a way most seriously minded Rock Stars dream of achieving. It is minor key Born To Run, meaning without the bombast.

And it is Ronnie who won the song writing competition between the two. His tunes are sweet, subtile and so heartfelt you absorb them with your chest rather then your ears. This is my favorite but — wow — is Annie a great tune as well. It was also around this time that he learned he had MS.

9) How Does It Feel — Steve Marriott: Another song writing competition developed out of the unreleased Marriott and Lane collaboration, Majik Mijits. This time Marriott — unlike Townsend — bests Lane, at least so far as this single song goes. Overall and throughout the entire album, Lane was more consistent but Marriott clearly throws all that he had left into this number.

It is a great song, the equal of anything Marriott had ever done. It is almost Lane-like in its self deprecating style and you can feel the weight of the years in its words and arrangement.

That it never saw the light of day while he was alive is — I suppose — somewhat fitting for a career and life that was always a hair off the mark. That it’s summary lyrical power survives his death is the song’s triumph and — in turn — his. Better late then never and I mean that as a high compliment.

10) That’s The Way It Goes — Ronnie Lane: If you just went by the title and the fact that Ronnie knew his days were numbered you might get the sense that this one would be maudlin in an unlistenable sort of way. It is anything but.

Lane reaches back to Swinging London and, in fact, beyond it to borrow from the English Music Hall tradition. He then stings together a bunch of droll puns to poke a bit of edgy fun at fate. Which is kinda of a brave thing to do when you are suffering from MS.

The idea here is to celebrate life, no matter what. It is the kind of attitude that orders up a round of pints immediately after the funeral service — and no tears if you please. By all accounts that was Ronnie. He lived till he died.

11) Judy, Judy, Judy — Ian McLagan & The Bump Band: Mac’s first collaboration with the Stones was on Miss You. Talk about first impressions. He then went on the two subsequent tours with them and that is his swinging electric piano on the live version of Going To A Go-Go, one of the few moments the Stones swung in 1981.

That he went no further with them probably has a lot to do with the fact that he saw them transitioning from juke joint house band to corporate juggernaut. Beer and perfume sponsorships are so not Rock & Roll.

Besides, it was a hell of a lot more fun and Rock and Roll paling around Austin where his former bandmate, Ronnie Lane, was passing his final years.

Most importantly musically, Mac could out Stone the Stones when he decided to lay down a solo track. Just give a listen here and see what I mean.

12) Cry If You Want — The Who: Per Pete Townshend — by way of a 2006 stage introduction — the only song the band still plays from It’s Hard is Eminence Front. Except that on that very same tour, The Who played this closing track from that album fairly frequently. Maybe Pete just forgot which album it came from, as well as the drummer who first played on it.

Kenny Jones was that drummer and he was a great one, especially for the Small Faces. He is the last of them and he was the person Steve and Ronnie entrusted with the Majic Mijits masters.

He is also the person who saw to it that they had a proper release. No doubt he recognized a fitting finale when he heard one. Their broader legacy also happens to include him and the departed Mac. It reflects on a time and place that is as far away as yesterday and as near as today…but only if you care to listen. You should.