Small Faces - The little mods who conquered London

Small Faces were a very different band from Faces. I know, the three of us were the same, but if you cut out Steve Marriott, then it's a very different group

(Ian McLagan)

Ah, wouldn't it be nice to get along with my neighbours? But they make it very clear, they've got no room for people making a racket. They stop me when I'm having fun, they bang on the wall… lazy Sunday afternoon, I've got no mind to worry, close my eyes and slip away…

(Steve Marriott)

(Intro)ducing the band…

Steve Marriott, guitar and vocals

Stephen Peter Marriott was born on 30 January 1947 in a large ward at East Ham Memorial Hospital, which straddles Manor Park and West Ham in east London, in the borough of Newham. The baby was born premature, weighing barely 2 kilograms. His father, Bill Marriott, was an English working-class man: he worked as a printer and made extra money selling oysters outside the Ruskin Arms hotel. A music lover, Bill occasionally played piano in the local pubs. He decided to buy his son a ukulele and a harmonica, hoping to pass on his own hobby, and managed to instil in the young Stephen a love of the seven notes. After a brief stint busking at bus stops, Stephen formed his first band at the age of twelve with schoolmates Nigel Chapin and Robin Andrews: The Wheels, later renamed Coronation Kids and finally Mississippi Five. The boy had a knack for it right from the start. His idol was Buddy Holly, and his first original song was called "Sheila My Dear", written in honour of his aunt. Exuberant, sociable, hyperactive: Stephen Marriott quickly learned how to let loose during his first Saturday-morning performances at the Essoldo Cinema in Manor Park, the area where he was born.

In 1960, his father happened to spot a newspaper ad looking for an actor for a part in Lionel Bart's musical "Oliver!", based on Charles Dickens's famous "Oliver Twist". Without even telling his son, Bill entered Stephen for the role: at thirteen, young Marriott found himself on the stage of the New Theatre singing "Who's Sorry Now" and "Oh, Boy!", a song by his idol Buddy Holly himself. Lionel Bart was impressed by Stephen's vocal ability and decided to hire him, paying eight pounds a week for a twelve-month run on stage. Buoyed by the success of "Oliver Twist", Stephen's parents urged him to carry on and persuaded him to join the Italy Conti Academy of Theatre Arts in London. The opportunity was a great one and could have landed the boy various film and TV roles, but Stephen gradually grew tired of it and went back to his first love: music. His parents, devastated by the news, put him under enormous pressure, and he decided to leave home and move in with friends.

The year is 1963. Marriott began writing his first songs, "Imaginary Love" and then "Give Her My Regards", without any commercial success. Despite initial interest from Decca Records, Mississippi Five broke up: Stephen first formed The Frantiks and then The Moments, who even managed to tour with acts like The Animals and top-tier bluesmen like John Mayall. The band showed real potential and might have broken into the US market, provided they recorded a version of "You Really Got Me", the biggest hit by the Kinks. The Moments' cover didn't live up to expectations, and Marriott was pushed out of the group for being deemed "too young to become a solo singer". Disheartened by the experience, Stephen decided to give up on a music career and found work at the J60 Music Bar, a musical instrument shop on High Street North, in Manor Park.

Ronnie Lane, bass and (occasionally) vocals

Ronald Frederick Lane was born on 1 April 1946 in another large ward at Plaistow Maternity Hospital, in the same East London metropolitan area of Newham. His father, Stanley, was a lorry driver and came from the same working class as Bill, Stephen's father. Everyday life in the Lane household was anything but easy: Stanley spent countless hours a day driving, and when he got home he had to deal with two children suffering from multiple sclerosis. Young Ronald was not at all cut out for school, and in fact he left at sixteen to get drunk at the pub with his friend Kenney Jones. During one of their many boozy nights out, they decided to form a band, the Outcasts. Lane, who had initially taught himself guitar, switched to bass, having fallen in love with the smooth, warm grooves of the Motown and Stax schools. At not quite twenty, Ronald was taken by his father Stanley to a musical instrument shop to buy a bass guitar. The shop was called the J60 Music Bar.

Ian McLagan, organ and keyboards

Ian Patrick McLagan was born on 12 May 1945 at West Middlesex Hospital in the Isleworth area of west London. His father, Alec William McLagan, was of Scottish descent and had an unusual background, having been a speed-skating champion back in 1928. Ian initially fell in love with the guitar, playing in a band called The Blue Men. Having dropped out of primary school, young McLagan focused on music from 1960 onward, shifting his efforts from guitar to electric piano in his second band, the Muleskinners, before moving on to Boz Burrell's Boz People.

Kenney Jones, drums

Kenneth Thomas Jones was born in the Whitechapel district on 16 September 1948. Growing up in London's East End, Kenneth quickly took to the drums, right from the tender age of thirteen, when he drove the rhythm section of an amateur skiffle group. A devotee of bands like Booker T. & The MG's, Jones became a professional drummer in under two years, before meeting his friend Ronald Lane and joining his first band, The Pioneers.

I'd like to buy a bass

That's a really nice bass, mate!

(Steve Marriott)

This story begins in 1965, when young Ronnie Lane was taken by his father Stanley to buy a new bass guitar at the J60 Music Bar instrument shop. The area in question is Manor Park, a residential suburb in east London. Working behind the counter of the shop is Stephen Marriott, who had recently quit his latest band, The Moments. Ronnie and Steve got talking about music and quickly discovered they shared plenty of the same musical passions, such as Stax and Motown records. After buying his bass, Lane accepted Marriott's invitation to come round to his place to listen to music, but above all to talk about how great it would be to start a new band. As it happened, Ronnie already had a friend ready to go, drummer Kenney Jones. And another guy called Jimmy Winston, who was willing to give up his first instrument, the guitar, to switch to keyboards. Everything seemed to fall into place at once, not least because Winston's own parents ran a pub, the Ruskin Arms, where the four of them could start rehearsing in their first line-up, with Lane on bass and Marriott on lead vocals and guitar.

In the small function room at the back of the Ruskin Arms, Winston tried to get the hang of a new Vox organ, while Marriott warmed up his voice trying to imitate his countless American idols, from Ray Charles to Buddy Holly. Winston's brother offered to drive a van to take them around to play gigs across east London. Fervent followers of the mod movement, the four of them chose the name Small Faces for two reasons: on one hand, everyone's diminutive height (small), and on the other, the concept of "face", which in mod culture referred to a leader, someone with a striking look, fashionable clothes and plenty of girls on their arm.

In the early days, the band focused on the great classics of R&B and soul music — among others, Ben E. King's "Stand By Me" and James Brown's "Please Please Please" — but its members, chiefly the duo of Lane and Marriott, were already more than ready for the big leap. Already followed by a sizeable crowd of mods in London's East End, the Small Faces soon launched into their first tour between Manchester and Sheffield, even though they didn't make a penny, crammed into that van converted from an old English police vehicle. Back in London, the four of them immediately set to work on their first original songs, which still drew on rhythm & blues foundations but with a far more nervy, fast and heavy approach, driven by the excellent playing of the rhythm section. Rounding out the picture, inspired by one of his heroes, Otis Redding, Steve Marriott had a unique vocal style, powerful and remarkably versatile. The Small Faces' early performances drew attention in Newham, particularly from manager Don Arden, who wasted no time signing them to Decca Records.

The Decca debut

During the Decca years, most of the material came from Steve's pen, let's say 99% of the material

(Kenney Jones)

Born in 1926, Don Arden — born Harry Levy — came from a Jewish family in Manchester and began his music career at just thirteen years old, as a singer. Few remember him for his stage performances, when he aped Elvis Presley on a cover of "Blue Suede Shoes" for the Embassy label. In 1954 he realized his future lay not in singing, but in the far more profitable business of music management. Six years later he signed the American rocker Gene Vincent, but Gene's drinking problems undermined their professional relationship. In London, Arden was known for his aggressive manner and for business strategies that skirted the edge of legality. He was nicknamed "Mr. Big" or the "Yiddish Godfather."

The decisive meeting with the Small Faces took place in 1965, in his office on Carnaby Street: it took less than half an hour for Marriott and co. to be signed to Decca Records. The single that launched the band's recording career was "Whatcha Gonna Do About It": released on 6 August 1965 and credited to Lane and Marriott, it featured an unmistakable "borrowing" of the riff from Solomon Burke's "Everybody Needs Somebody To Love." The track was a hit, climbing the UK Top 20 Singles chart, closely followed by the syncopated ballad "I've Got Mine," which perfectly embodied the mod-soul style the band was pursuing, driven by Lane's unusually forceful bass and Marriott's amphetamine-fuelled vocals. The song was also featured in the soundtrack of the crime film "Dateline Diamonds" (1965), though the move didn't bring the hoped-for publicity.

Following the band's appearance in "Dateline Diamonds," internal friction led to Winston's departure, not only because he was too old (and too tall) by the band's standards, but also — and above all — because of his repeated attempts to muscle in on Marriott's role as leader. In truth, Winston was something of a makeshift keyboard player — his natural instrument was the guitar — and Steve himself often found himself having to explain phrasing to him. Don Arden became convinced that Winston needed replacing, so professional keyboardist Ian McLagan was called in for an audition, on the suggestion of Lane, who had seen him perform with the Boz People.

With McLagan's arrival, Marriott and Lane were finally free to focus entirely on their songwriting, able to rely on an experienced keyboard player. In early 1966 the band set off on their first European tour, taking in Belgium, Holland and Germany. In January the single "Sha-La-La-La-Lee" was released, shaking up the English scene with its catchy pop-beat sound and reaching number 3 on the singles chart. It was the prelude to the release of their debut album, Small Faces, released by Decca in May 1966.

Opening with the tribal drumming of "Shake," Small Faces is a textbook debut for the Lane-Marriott band, a cornerstone of the mod sound and a direct rival to "The Who Sings My Generation," the title Decca Records chose for the US version of Townshend and co.'s album. Strikingly similar in vocal style, Steve Marriott and Roger Daltrey vied for the role of chief frontman of the mod movement, with Marriott having the edge on the soul thermometer ("Come On Children" and "You'd Better Believe It," featuring Ian McLagan's excellent organ work). "It's Too Late" and "The Good's Gone" — it's almost impossible to say who copied whom — are the songs that, in the Queen's Jubilee year of 1966, duked it out to decide whether the Small Faces or the Who were London's top band.

Like the Who's, Marriott's band's sound pushes right up to the edge of eardrum-shattering (the brief distorted beat of "Own Up Time") and effectively reinterprets African-American music, opening the door to the hard-rock era years ahead of schedule, as on the monstrous "You Need Loving," which Zeppelin would later transform into "Whole Lotta Love." The album is a small masterpiece of its time, a seminal record for English beat music and for the future of rock's more aggressive strains.

The album Small Faces was well received by both critics and ordinary English listeners, propelling the band to appear on hugely popular shows of the era such as Ready Steady Go! and Top Of The Pops. In autumn 1966, the four prepared for their first tour of the States, two years after the Beatles' British Invasion. The band was riding high on the new single "All Or Nothing," another beat number in ballad form with a spine-tingling vocal performance from Marriott. In the US, the group was due to support the Lovin' Spoonful and the Mamas & Papas, among the leading lights of the flower-power movement. The big dream soon fell apart: Don Arden's cost calculations proved too steep, and Ian McLagan was caught at Heathrow Airport with a fair amount of cannabis in his pocket. Under US immigration law, the Small Faces were barred from setting foot on American soil.

The failed US tour left its mark, but worse was to come. At the end of 1966, as the band was travelling back to London from a gig in Newcastle, Steve's ex-girlfriend, Adrienne Posta, was being interviewed on the radio. The four tuned in out of curiosity, only to learn, to their utter astonishment, of the exclusive release of the new Small Faces single, the Marriott-penned power ballad "My Mind's Eye." The track playing on the radio was nothing more than a demo, a rough version Marriott himself had given to Don Arden to show him the direction of the band's new work. Arden, without a second thought, had handed the single straight to the radio stations. It was the final straw: the Small Faces, who were already complaining about unpaid royalties from Arden, broke with "Mr. Big" and, consequently, with Decca Records.

Here Come The Nice

It was only later, with Immediate, that Ronnie became more involved in the creative process. The first album we made with Immediate was 50% Steve's songs and 50% Ronnie's songs. They didn't really collaborate the way a lot of people think. In fact, whenever they did, they always ended up arguing and coming to blows

(Kenney Jones)

Year 1967. The Small Faces are in limbo, with no manager and no new record deal. Mick Jagger steps in, arranging a meeting at Ronnie Lane's flat in Earls Court with the Rolling Stones' own manager, Andrew Loog Oldham. Two years earlier, Oldham had founded Immediate Records, one of the first independent labels in the UK. After the disastrous relationship with Arden and Decca, the band immediately clicked with Andrew, who spoke the same language as Marriott and co., truly understanding the kind of music they were making. "Free yourselves completely, and let's see what happens," is what Oldham told the four of them. On 10 February 1967, the Small Faces signed to Immediate Records and earned the chance to work with one of the finest sound engineers around, Glyn Johns.

On 2 June 1967, the first single for Immediate, "Here Come The Nice," was released. Credited to the Lane-Marriott partnership, the track marked the band's first step toward psychedelic pop, while still remaining true to their early mod-beat roots. Read by many as an ode to drugs — indeed it refers to speed, the amphetamine much in vogue among mods in the mid-Sixties — "Here Come The Nice" is the kind of song former manager Don Arden would never have allowed to be released; now, however, it was pushed through by Oldham and above all by Johns, who replaced the classic fade-out ending with a sound effect reminiscent of the rush experienced firsthand by drug users.

"Here Come The Nice" is the prelude to the release of the band's second album, once again titled Small Faces, as if to wipe out the Decca years entirely. Released on Immediate at the end of June, Small Faces is another sonic gem that projects Marriott's compositional and vocal flair into the stratosphere of great musicians.

From the very first psychedelic guitar strums of "(Tell Me) Have You Ever Seen Me?", the record is the amphetamine-fuelled, beat-driven take the Small Faces bring to the psychedelic gates of the 1967 Summer of Love. From "Become Like You" to "Green Circles", the band ventures into the territory of psychedelic pop while staying true to the mod-soul-beat architecture that's establishing them east of London.

Beloved over the years by all the band's fans, Small Faces is a record that gives plenty of room to the rhythm section – especially Lane's bass on "All Our Yesterdays" and "Eddie's Dreaming" – building on it little pop-beat cathedrals (the killer track "Talk To You" and "Things Are Going To Get Better", which deserves a special mention as the embryo of certain English sounds that would later be filed under the term britpop), thanks in particular to McLagan's organ work. Also known as "The Debut Immediate Album" – a nickname coined by fans to distinguish it from the first record and, above all, to mark the band's bitter split from Arden and Decca – Small Faces is ultimately the record that widens the horizons, turning a bunch of small-statured mods into genuine artists.

Out of spite, and to sabotage the success of the second Small Faces, Decca releases the compilation From The Beginning that same month, featuring a wealth of material never before issued on record. The collection is therefore almost a brand-new album in its own right, a sort of B-side counterpart to the first Small Faces. The sound is that of their very recent debut, a dizzying beat steeped in soul and rhythm & blues. From the commanding bass of "That Man" to the stammering groove of "Baby Don't You Do It" (also covered by the Who), From The Beginning complements Small Faces and offers a fuller picture of the new London mod phenomenon.

In August 1967 the Small Faces release the new single "Itchycoo Park", the first English song to use the flanger, an electronic effect created by running the signal through a delay line with extended times. The track blends wildly different styles, somewhere between pop psychedelia and folk ditty, and quickly becomes a hit in both the UK and the US. Followed in December by the fine, near-orchestral choral beat of "Tin Soldier", the single ends up on their next album for Immediate, the first to be distributed in the United States.

There Are But Four Small Faces comes out in March 1968 and continues along the path Marriott and Lane's band had taken toward freakbeat, a blend of mod-beat and pop psychedelia. The pioneers of this new hybrid genre are indeed "Itchycoo Park", but also essential tracks like the bittersweet "Up the Wooden Hills", the goofy "I Feel Much Better" and the drugged-out "Here Comes The Nice". The album, designed to storm the US market after the success of "Itchycoo Park", nonetheless includes tracks already heard in England such as "Green Circles" and "My Way of Giving", which is why it's not quite accurate to call it a "new album", just as it isn't entirely fair to describe From The Beginning as a simple compilation.

But the best, for the Small Faces, is yet to come.

The tale of Happiness Stan

English bands have had an unusual approach to psychedelia from the very start, often choosing to take on different musical "personae" across their albums, or pretending to play actual roles within the setting of a variety show (as on "Sgt. Pepper's"), or simply acting as narrators in the manner of the Pretty Things on "S.F. Sorrow", or as actors/performers as on "Tommy". The Small Faces tried all of these approaches, but never softened their sound

(AllMusic Guide)

January 1968. The Small Faces are on tour with the Who on the so-called "Big Show", which lands in the East, first in Thailand and then in Australia and New Zealand. The fame earned through the single "Itchycoo Park" draws crowds of screaming teenagers in full Beatlemania style. While they can comfortably hold their own as London's supreme mod band, Townshend and Daltrey's group is decidedly more at home on stage, whereas the Small Faces seem almost ill at ease live, more used to endless TV appearances and studio work. Had they packed more electricity into their live shows, we'd probably be talking today about a band far better known and loved in rock history.

One night, at the old Sydney Stadium, the Aussie crowd doesn't take kindly to the band's performance and starts throwing coins at the stage. Marriott loses it completely and starts hurling insults and threats at everyone, promising to draw blood. If things with Lane are already far from idyllic, the relationship with the audience is downright chilling.

Back performing in Europe – with a date in Italy at the historic Piper Club on Via Tagliamento, in Rome – the Small Faces once again find out about the release of a single without having been told. In early April, Immediate puts out "Lazy Sunday", which lands like a hefty kick in the backside to every mod-beat fan. Inspired by the music-hall sound of London's East End, "Lazy Sunday" unleashes all of Marriott's theatrical flair, as he decides to sing (or rather recite) it in a broad cockney accent. Written by Marriott himself after endless rows with his neighbours – as well as with members of the Hollies, who accused him of being unable to even sing in his own accent – "Lazy Sunday" is a watershed moment for the band's music, rushed out straight away by Loog Oldham, who sensed its huge potential.

Ever the old fox of the music business, Oldham makes the right call, even as it infuriates the band. "Lazy Sunday", with its foul-mouthed vaudeville swagger, climbs to number two on the British charts. Years later, a certain John Joseph Lydon will admit the considerable impact Marriott's cheeky, foul-mouthed voice had on his own way of singing.

Ogdens' Nut Gone Flake is the Small Faces' first concept album, released on Immediate on 24 May 1968 and spending a full six weeks at number one on the UK Album Chart that year. Recorded over roughly five months at Olympic Studios in London, the record represents the absolute peak of Marriott and Lane's creativity, an outright masterpiece of freakbeat psychedelia applied to the rock-opera format. The album opens brilliantly with the instrumental title track, which is actually a remake of the second single "I've Got Mine" (a flop back in 1965), overdubbed with lush orchestral flourishes led by mellotron and strings arranged by David McCallum senior.

The whole first half of the album offers a mix of genres that only seem disconnected from one another, from the space-age soul ballad "Afterglow" to "Long Agos And Worlds Apart," another psychedelic ballad penned by Ian McLagan. Originally distributed in a special package reproducing the tin box used for tobacco – Ogden’s Nut-brown Flake being, in fact, a tobacco brand launched in Liverpool in 1899 by Thomas Ogden – the album continues with the first cockney-style vaudeville number, "Rene," which coils like a stage snake between blues harmonica and an incomparable psychedelic instrumental coda. That Ogden’s Nut Gone Flake is a masterpiece becomes clear with the following "Song Of A Baker," which shifts key entirely and accelerates into proto-heavy territory, before returning to the East End with the already mentioned "Lazy Sunday."

The second half of the album is built around an original fairy tale telling the story of a boy named Happiness Stan – essentially a suite of six interconnected songs narrated by English comic actor Stanley Unwin in a nonsense language called unwinese. From the Eastern-flavored chords of "Happiness Stan," the tale follows his quest to find the missing half of the moon. Along the way, he saves a fly from starving, and in gratitude the insect tells him there's a wise man who can answer his question and also reveal to him the philosophy of life itself. Riding on the back of the giant fly, Stan embarks on a psychedelic journey to the cave of "Mad John," who explains that the Moon's disappearance is only temporary, revealing that Stan has spent so long on his quest that the Moon is already full again. Then he sings Stan a joyful song about the meaning of life. Between the hard rock of "Rollin' Over" and the psych-folk of "The Hungry Intruder" and "Mad John," the second half of Ogden's is something completely different, a small fairy tale set to music that rightfully ranks among the most important works of the Sixties, in no way inferior to far more celebrated records championed by the music business of the day.

Ogdens' Nut Gone Flake proves to be an album too difficult to take on tour, perhaps too grand for a band that never quite found real chemistry on stage. The only live rendition – and only of the album's second half – is broadcast on the Bbc programme Late Night Line Up: Colour Me Pop, but it doesn't do justice to the original, since there are simply too many effects and orchestrations recorded in the studio, not to mention the narrative interludes that are impossible to replicate live.

Proud of the work they'd produced, Small Faces head back out on tour, but soon realize their reputation hasn't changed one bit. They're still seen as a teen band greeted by screaming kids with no real interest in actually listening to their music. Internal tensions grow, since after "Ogdens'" it seems impossible to figure out which direction their songwriting should take next. Complicating matters further are renewed royalty disputes with Immediate, just as had happened a few years earlier with Arden and Decca Records.

Already a famously difficult character, Steve Marriott decides to record the odd country-rock single "The Universal" on his own, which in July 1968 peaks at No. 16 on the charts before vanishing into thin air. In truth, Steve's attempt is much better than its reputation suggests, since it essentially tries to push Small Faces toward the sound that would make Led Zeppelin's fortune just a few years later. But by now the situation is explosive, and Marriott himself starts collaborating more and more frequently with guitarist Peter Frampton. In November, the band kicks off a run of English shows alongside friends The Who and Joe Cocker, before moving on to France, where, in Paris, Steve tells the rest of the group he intends to bring Peter Frampton into the fold. Ronnie is furious and won't even consider the idea.

Right after Paris, Small Faces play Alexandra Palace alongside bluesman Alexis Korner. This is where disaster strikes: Marriott asks Korner to play "Lazy Sunday," something more or less impossible for the English Muddy Waters. At the end of the song, Steve throws his guitar to the ground and walks off. While the rest of the band keeps playing, hoping he'll come back, an eerie silence falls over the crowd.

The final word on the adventure of the four mods from East London.

What happened next

We got something very special with Faces. We were blessed for the good times we had

(Ian McLagan)

After the split at the end of 1968, Steve Marriott joins Peter Frampton in the supergroup Humble Pie, formed together with Spooky Tooth bassist Greg Ridley and seventeen-year-old drummer Jerry Shirley. The band remains tied to Loog Oldham's Immediate and releases four excellent blues-hard-rock albums before Frampton's departure in 1971. Marriott will keep the Humble Pie project going into the 1980s.

Less ready to jump straight back in, Ronnie Lane, Kenney Jones and Ian McLagan become artistically tied to the Ronnie Wood-Rod Stewart partnership, first playing on Rod The Mod's early solo albums and then giving birth to the Faces project.

Meanwhile, on 1 May 1969, the album In Memoriam is released: like From The Beginning, this "posthumous" Small Faces compilation contains several unreleased tracks, mostly recorded during the production months of "Ogdens'." Among the noteworthy originals are the blues-rock cover of "If I Were A Carpenter" (Tim Hardin) and the soul cover of "Every Little Bit Hurts" (Ed Cobb) in the first half, recorded live in Newcastle. The second half, made up of unreleased studio recordings, is even more rewarding, ranging from the funky-soul fanfare "Collibosher" to the powerful blues jig "Call It Something Nice." Special mention goes to the Syd Barrett-style psych-folk tune "The Autumn Stone," the last gem penned by Marriott, which once again proves that, beyond his fiery temper, he remains one of the most underrated songwriters in the history of Sixties English music. Although In Memoriam isn't the proper discographic farewell Small Faces deserved, "The Autumn Stone" is a fitting, heartbreaking closing statement.

To squeeze every last drop out of Marriott and co.'s recent legacy, Immediate releases another compilation, this time a double album, in November 1969. The Autumn Stone, however, is a spot-on retrospective, packing the London group's entire artistry across four sides. Of particular interest is the resurfacing of singles from the Decca and Immediate years, including a few unreleased tracks that were meant to be part of the never-completed fourth album, titled "1862." From the folk-blues cover of Tim Hardin's "Red Balloon" to the underrated "The Universal," the double album includes a different version of "Afterglow Of Your Love" and, toward the end, the instrumental fanfare "Wide Eyed Girl On The Wall" and the proto-glam "Wham Bam, Thank You Mam."

The Autumn Stone is an excellent retrospective, and far better than In Memoriam it shows the world just how much further Small Faces could have pushed their innovation, had they not ended too soon to become legends.

Year 1977. After the breakup of Faces, the four little mods reunite for a video for "Itchycoo Park," which climbs back up the charts ten years after its original UK release. Marriott suggests going back into the studio, but Lane – whose health is meanwhile worsening due to multiple sclerosis – argues with everyone and walks away. The remaining band members, however, are determined to get back on the scene and decide to recruit Peter Frampton's former bassist, Rick Willis. In August, the long-awaited Playmates comes out on Atlantic Records, and it will likely be remembered by rock historians more for its hideous cover art than for the music the band actually delivers. Marriott returns to soul territory ("High And Happy") without much bite, while McLagan softens the organ far too much, rendering it harmless ("Never Too Late"). Right in the middle of the punk explosion, Playmates is a thoroughly anachronistic record, as shown by the insipid pop ballad "Tonight" or the vaudeville-style rock and roll number "Saylarvee." While "Find It" apes an already-retired version of The Stones, only the soulful warmth of "Playmates" and "Lookin' for a Love" manages to at least warm the hearts of old fans.

A flop with critics and audiences alike, Playmates is followed in quick succession in 1978 by 78 In The Shade, which brings in the guitar of Jimmy McCulloch, fresh off his stint with Paul McCartney's Wings. Again released by Atlantic, the album is another sonic disaster, steeped in bland rhythm & blues as on "Over Too Soon" or "Too Many Crossroads".

Luckily, the Small Faces soon realize their creativity as a band has long since run dry, and, humbled by merciless reviews, decide to split up once again. Fans are left to content themselves with the Bbc Sessions album, which collects various performances for the national broadcaster between 1965 and 1968 — the years in which the band proved they could comfortably compete with Kinks, Who and Beatles for a place in rock history.

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