The Faces

ARTICLE ABOUT Deep Purple FROM SOUNDS, August 21, 1971

A short article on Purple and a little bit about The Faces. Not the greatest piece of journalism but it is always nice to read anything written about bands this early in their career. And these days, when we do miss the great, late Jon Lord, it is a pleasure to “hear” from him again. So enjoy, my friends.


A purple passage in Texas

Allan McDougall reports from Hollywood on Deep Purple in America

It`s 3 P.M. on a 95 degree Hollywood Friday afternoon, and you`re sitting high in your office thinking Friday thoughts of the beach, or the mountains or maybe the desert. Your intercom buzzes and your secretary says there`s a Jon Lord at the gate, should the guard let him in?
Then you remember tonight is the night to go down to Long Beach. Not to tour the Queen Mary, all high and dry and hamburger and cake stands, but to see Jon Lord and his organ and Ritchie and Roger and Little Ian and singer Ian who are gigging at L.B. with Rod Stewart and the very big now Faces.
You run out and meet Jon and say, “Far out, didn`t think you`d have time to fall by, watcha up to?” And Jon, as elegant as ever in his Avis renta-thing says, “I came in early to buy an organ – bloody airlines dropped mine.”
But first: liquid refreshment. Which in 95 deg. Hollywood means not the boozer because (A) there`s no pubs in L.A., really, and (B) imagine the kind of hangover you`d get in that kind of heat.


So, sitting sipping our strawberry malts, Jon tells us about this tour of America:
“Actually, it been the best tour Deep Purple have done of the States. The most worthwhile so far. Gigging with The Faces has been so good. You know, obviously in most places we`ve played it`s been their audiences – Especially in Detroit and Chicago, which is where Rod Stewart`s label, Mercury, is headquartered.


“But in Texas, it seemed like they`d all come to see Deep Purple. Anyway, we usually had to work very hard to get the audiences going, and always got encores – which meant that The Faces also had to work especially hard to follow us. All of which meant a lot of fun for the audiences at every show.”
Knowing that Ritchie Blackmore is not quite the world`s No. 1 America fan, we ask if the man in black is digging it?
“Yes, Ritchie`s really getting into it at last, bless him. Now, he can see the sense of it – we all can. Did you know that our new album, `Fireball`, shipped 55,000 in the last three days?”
We pause to faint for a minute, because that`s a whole lot of albums for 3 days, and we think that all the signs that told us “At last Deep Purple are going to really do it in the States”, all those signs spoke with straight tongue.
“And there`s re-orders coming into Warner`s from all over the place,” Jon smilingly concludes.


Later that day my lady and I drive down to Long Beach, but the traffic jams caused by the 20,000-odd people with tickets (and the 10,000-odd ticketless people) all trying to get in make us late for the show, and we get there at the end of “Strange Kind Of Woman” which goes down well.
Then Purple sneak into “Child In Time” which really gets the audience going. Having seen Purple perform in Paris and Berlin and London last year, we observe one big change in the act, and a nice one, too. Ritchie does an incredible solo where his guitar sounds like some monstrous cello.
Then comes the usual closer, “Mandrake Root”, great as ever with the strobe-lights and all, and the audience go crazy and Deep Purple should be very proud and happy.


A word or two about those Faces: they are fantastic. Rod was just great, prancing around in his leopard-skin suit and while Mac and Ron and Ronnie and Kenny may not be the world`s flashiest musicians, they probably are the world`s most effective.


From “It`s All Over Now” to “Maybe I`m Amazed” to the Everly`s “When Will I Be Loved”, through old favourite “Country Comforts” and “Every Picture Tells A Story” new favourites “Maggie May”, they had the entire audience bopping happily at their feet.
And that was the best rock show South California`s seen in some years.


I have personally transcribed this from the original paper. Any errors in the text from the original magazine may not have been corrected for the sake of accuracy. If you have a music-related web-page where this fits – please make a link to the article. With credits to the original writer of the article from all of us music fans!

This number of Sounds also contains articles/interviews with these people: Ravi Shankar, Mickey Finn, Roger McGuinn, Rick Nelson, Howard Riley, Eddie Harris, Mike Albuquerque, Supertramp, Mark/Almond, East of Eden, Woody Allen, The R&B Show, Terry Reid, Viv Stanshall, Louis Armstrong, Joseph Spence.

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I have personally transcribed this from the original paper and you are free to use it as you like. If you use it on your  own webpages – please credit me or put up a link to my blog. If you really like this sort of thing – follow my blog!

You can`t ignore a band where two of the members later played for The Who and The Rolling Stones and one of them went on to enjoy a terrific solo career. So here is a concert review for those of you who are interested!


KERUUNCH – The Circus Hits Town

JAMES JOHNSON postscripts the FACES tour
– and finds the answers to the critics

It apparently doesn`t take long to find new ways to knock a band. Take the Faces for example.
With their British tour over and the plexiglass stage packed away for another day, the word round less charitable quarters
is that they`re past their best; they`re tired, rely too heavily on old material, and the easy-going style they created has near enough exhausted itself.
But that`s a little unfair, wouldn`t you say? Or at least a trifle premature.
Maybe in some minor respects the band have indeed eased up. Touring, in general, is now taken a little more calmly and they`ve even cut down on the boozing.
Yet the firm and unalterable fact is that when they`re on stage they are, quite simply, the brightest, most entertaining outfit in British rock and it`s unfortunate if all they get for their pains is a kick in the teeth.
I caught two concerts on the tour – at Brixton and Sheffield – and it was obvious from both that whenever the Faces play it`s still a mighty big event.
Perhaps, of the two concerts, the Brixton gig was more ostentatious – a whole crowd of Faces` friends in the circle, an unending chain of collapsed chickies being squeezed ungraciously out of the front rows and dragged across stage…while the band provided an extra touch of circus with drinks on stage served by a dwarf standing no higher than Kenny Jones` hi-hat cymbal.
Yes, it was a steaming, rollicking night in the grand old Faces tradition.

By contrast Sheffield was a milder, quieter affair – if any Faces concert could be described in such terms – but interesting in that it provided a chance to watch the band working with things not altogether running smoothly.
The scene was Sheffield City Hall, to be precise. The city had hummed all day with expectancy and when the kids – an uncompromising bunch with rough hands and loud throaty voices – tumbled into the auditorium they brought with them their own tough, loose atmosphere.
Down in the bar it was elbowroom only, with bitter selling fast as the serious drinkers warmed up.
Most barely looked up from their pints as a guy with big boots, large nose and sloping forehead, obviously already well soused, slouched in a corner yelling “Rod-nee, Rod-nee” with the kind of venom normally reserved for football terraces on a Saturday afternoon.
Backstage though, things were decidedly cooler. Promoter Peter Bowyer paced the corridors wearing a face as anxious as an expectant father.
The Faces were late, getting later and all anybody could blame was the English weather, mid-December.

With their usual panache, the band were flying to all gigs in a specially hired plane. That is, all expect little Ronnie Lane, who, in particularly homespun manner, was travelling round the country in a Land-rover with his family in the back.
This time, though, the Faces plane – with all five on board – had been grounded in London by fog. And, with obvious delay, they were coming up by car instead.
Perhaps they shouldn`t escape blame entirely. After all it doesn`t take much imagination to foresee that this might happen in the middle of winter.
Still, Vigrasse and Osborne went on, played a comfortable, punchy little set and came off to find still no word or sign from the Faces.
The hall-manager started getting tense about licenses and Bowyer`s face grew longer as the first rounds of slow-handclapping infiltrated from the front. But at least the roadies appeared unconcerned, knowing anyway that the band have never been exactly the world`s best timekeepers.
“It won`t matter,” said one, casually hitting open a Coke can against a table.
“You know what`ll happen. Rod`ll go on, say: `Ow are yer? Sorry we`re late mates`, they`ll get into the first number and nobody`ll care.”

And, of course, most of the impatience in the audience was really half-hearted. After all it was Friday night, two days before Christmas and the Faces were going to be on stage sooner or later. You couldn`t help but feel good.
Then, with the arrival outside of a Daimler, there`s a flurry round the stage door; noise, speed, action, people pushing and the Faces are there.
A quick dive in the dressing room, time just for a change and a tune-up and then the band are on stage with 2000 voices raised in mighty acclaim.


It was a magical, heartwarming moment. There was Rod raising his glass to the upper circle, Ronnie Wood in trousers like they`d been made out of red foil, Kenny Jones adjusting his drums like the true professional, Ian MacLagan in a tasty piece of tartan suiting and Ronnie Lane looking the East London kid in a natty Petticoat Lane barrow boys suit.
And Keruunch, with the welcoming roar still pouring out of Yorkshire throats, the band swooped into the beautiful opening,
sliding chords of “Memphis Tennessee”.
They had come on cold, the stage was frankly too small for comfort and they looked really a little brusque, even grim. But after three numbers, the length of time they seem to normally take, the band hit full stride, and they really did stride.
Yeah, it sounded fine, music that made the eyes steam, the pulse quicken.
Next it was a number Stewart pointedly described as a new one, twice in fact, although forgetting to mention the title. But the chugging, rolling, momentum of it was just the impetus needed for the crowd to rise to its feet as one.

By “Maybe I`m Amazed” it started to look as if the Faces were enjoying it too. It`s an old number, yes, but still sounded fresh, while “I`d Rather Go Blind” was amazing, with Wood splicing off pealing guitar notes before shuddering into a chord and Stewart proving once again that he`s one of the monster, razor-edged vocalists of all time.
As is usual, Wood had virtually his own spot on “All You Need”, sliding over the frets with cigarette jutting out between firmly-clasped lips.
The band`s next single “Cindy”, plus “You Wear It Well”, and “Maggie May” saw them still warming without perhaps quite hitting top but all the band smiled on “Angel” as the people out front swayed, singing the chorus, hands clasped above heads. An amazing sight.
More numbers, a super-charged encore with “Twisting The Night Away”, footballs kicked out to outstretched hands and finally the band are back in the dressing room looking a good deal more pleased than when they arrived.

By the time they were back at the hotel the general view was that the concert had been a good one if not a great one; no more, no less and nobody really seemed too concerned.
The talk at the dinner table was football rather than music.
Stewart wonders what`s going to happen to the Scottish team now that Docherty is at Manchester, cabaret is provided by Ron Wood taking over the restaurant`s hot-plate, pouring brandy over it and igniting a little dish known as “Plat de Burnze`oteldown` made up of salad, menu cards and anything else that happens to be available.
Mostly, though, the atmosphere is low-keyed. Jones and Lane want to go back to London for the night while most of the others want to go to bed.
Perhaps, by Faces standards, the concert had been unspectacular.
Perhaps it could be said on more run-of-the mill gigs the Faces have indeed lost some of their zip, some of their enthusiasm.
Even so, it doesn`t detract from their performance. At Sheffield they`d still put on a hell of a fine show. Next time they play the City Hall tickets will again be hard to find.


David Cassidy used to be the one that all the little girls dreamed of. When studying this ad you could be right to conclude that he was mighty popular in 1973.

This number of the NME also contains articles/interviews with these people: Jimi Hendrix, Fumble, Joni Mitchell,
Danny Seiwell, Class of `73 (Hopefuls to succeed), Stray, Trapeze.

This edition is sold!