Traffic

We could certainly call Steve Winwood a rock “child prodigy”: a native of Birmingham, our man is just 15 when he moves from the jazz standards of the Muff Woody Jazz Band (which also featured his older brother Mervyn, known as “Muff”) to the beat and rhythm & blues of the Spencer Davis Group. Stevie is a many-sided, mercurial talent: he plays piano, organ and occasionally guitar too. But what really makes him unique is undoubtedly his splendid, precocious soul voice, incredible for a white English teenager. This rare gift will make the fortune of the many bands he goes on to play with. In the new world of English beat, the band makes a name for itself, lands a record deal with Chris Blackwell's fledgling Island label, and churns out concerts and memorable songs. Chief among them, the legendary “Gimme Some Lovin'”, a hit in 1966 (when Winwood is just eighteen).

Steve is unhappy: he leaves the band to pursue other, more interesting projects.

It's the spring of 1967, and everything is about to be thrown back into play.

Winwood needs to leave behind (though it won't be easy from here on) the pressure of being the leader of the Spencer Davis Group: bored with being the linchpin of a situation he no longer believes in, he decides to open the door to a freer musical experience, one that brings together very different sounds and rhythms. Soul, pop, rock, jazz, r&b and Indian tradition will be the main ingredients of the debut album. The time comes to recruit the band's members, all from Birmingham like Winwood: guitarist Dave Mason (a former roadie for the Group), drummer Jim Capaldi (ex-Hellions and Deep Feeling) and reedman Chris Wood, who came from the Locomotive. On the advice of the Island boss, the newborn band settles for six months in an old cottage in the English countryside of Berkshire with the aim of rehearsing new material.

The mood immediately proves rather tense, with Dave Mason openly clashing with Winwood over the internal running of the group. Luckily the music doesn't suffer at all from the friction — quite the opposite: the long nocturnal instrumental jam sessions that serve as a prelude to “Mr. Fantasy” are crucial in building the new sound, a true “proto-progressive” bridge between what rock had been and what it was about to become.

The first fruit of the four musicians' artistic collaboration is the single “Paper Sun”, released in June. It couldn't be a better start: the song is one of the symbols of the new Swingin' London of '67, a fluted kaleidoscope of psychedelic pop-folk, draped in the Eastern exoticism of instruments like sitar and tablas, all the rage in the music community at the time. With its pulsing gait and mysterious exotic beat, “Paper Sun”, one of the first English “raga rock” tracks, wins over the British public, who reward it with an encouraging number 5 on the charts. In October comes “Hole In My Shoe”, the second single, written by Dave Mason. Once again the blend of Hammond organ, mellotron, sitar, flute and percussion manages to hypnotize the listener. Dave's vaudeville-style jape, with his nasal voice so different from his bandmate's, sends Traffic even higher up the charts, reaching number 2. At that point, though, something in the inner workings breaks down: Dave Mason decides to leave, unhappy with the direction taken by the other three, who are more inclined to keep going down the folk, jazz and soul path. Mason is the one most drawn to flower-power culture, psychedelia and playing exotic instruments: it's him, in fact, who brings the Eastern element of sitar, shakkai and tambura into Traffic, following the example of George Harrison; and it's him who plays that strange synthesizer called the mellotron, with its sinister pre-recorded string sounds.

The remaining three decide to carry on without their friend anyway: they take part in the filming of the Beatles' "Magical Mystery Tour" and release the third single “Here We Go Round The Mulberry Bush” for the soundtrack of the film of the same name. By now we're at the tail end of the magical year 1967, and only now, in December, do the three decide to release “Mr. Fantasy”. The material dates back to the last sessions with Mason, who is therefore present on every track, as well as on the cover.

Recorded at Olympic Studios in London together with the skilled sound engineer Eddie Kramer (who had already worked with the Beatles and Jimi Hendrix), “Mr. Fantasy” is one of the freshest, most interesting debuts of the 60s, and one that has aged best. A painting rich in different moods and colors, complex, yet beautifully balanced in all its parts. There's the jazz/folk element brought by Chris Wood's sax and flute and Stevie's organ; the Eastern varnish supplied by Dave Mason; the soul of Winwood's black voice. All winning cards played within that realm of rock jam sessions that Traffic shared with very few others in the UK: Hendrix, Pink Floyd, Soft Machine, Cream with Eric Clapton.

The songs are like carefree nursery rhymes carrying shifting moods: sweetness, intensity and romance, melancholy. The lyrics tell of mental paradises, colored rain and lords of fantasy: psychedelic extravagances that shocked outraged adults but were an everyday matter among the kids of '67. Fine lyrics, and above all, as already noted, tremendous music: the members of Traffic, barely more than teenagers (the oldest, Chris Wood, is 23), achieve a stylistic synthesis worthy of far more seasoned professionals.

It opens with “Heaven Is In Your Mind” and its unmistakable intro of piano, sax and flute. In comes Stevie's (doubled) voice and those verse endings stretched out endlessly, almost like a mantra. Capaldi's percussion work is excellent too, comfortable with tempo changes and fragmented rhythms. The coda is inspired, with the voices chasing each other in a Beatles-esque lysergic whirl, followed by an unexpected Mason guitar solo to close things out. “Berkshire Poppies” lightens the dreamy mood: playful and carefree, the song again breaks free into odd time signatures (6/4 in the verse and 4/4 in the chorus), piano flourishes and three false endings. The comic vaudeville atmosphere is made even more hilarious by the presence of the Small Faces (another famous English band) on backing vocals. Then it's Dave Mason's turn, whose “House For Everyone” lets echoes of psychedelic folk return. The intro, with its backward tape effects and that sampled music-box sound, is wonderful. The unfolding of the track is evocative too, with Mason's nasal voice, violin trills and a slowed-down ending.

“No Face, No Name And No Number” is one of the first English psychedelic ballads, close in mood to the romanticism of Moody Blues and Procol Harum. The effective acoustic guitar arpeggio precedes Winwood's sensual singing, but it's the mellotron with its bleak, unnatural textures that really steals the show. Add in the harpsichord and flute and the job's done: a song with two faces, intangible, just like the girl evoked in the title.

By the time “Dear Mr. Fantasy” arrives, we're already at the heart of the album. Solid, square drumming, guitar riff and embroidering harmonica, a tremendous bluesy performance from Stevie. An acid British-blues ride that became a symbol of the band's early period. Mason (is he perhaps “Mr. Fantasy” himself?) delivers the best guitar part. Note, finally, the insistent instrumental coda, an idea more than one musician would have set aside (just ask the Beatles about "Hey Jude" for confirmation).

“Dealer” opens with a beautiful, solitary dialogue between acoustic guitar and flute, before bursting into the verse, propped up by two-part singing and percussion that lends the piece a touch of “Moroccan” flavor.

The scents of the East come through even more strongly on the Mason-penned “Utterly Simple”, a genuine raga filtered through the Beatles experience (Dave was decidedly Traffic's Harrison), in which odd time signatures, sitar and tablas merge with the vocal parts. The listener is catapulted into a parallel dimension, where the English countryside rapidly morphs into an Indian temple. “Coloured Rain” sets everything right again, with Winwood's soul voice once more looming large, amid impossible high notes, saxophone solos and acid Hammond in the background. The interplay among the band members is excellent, spot-on on the breaks like Swiss watches: everything calibrated, thrilling. The song fades out, hinting at the long jams to come in later live renditions. There's a bit more daydreaming with “Hope I Never Find Me There”, the only weak entry in the bunch, but closing time has already arrived: “Giving To You” starts off slow and smoky, with a speaker introducing something. But it lasts only a few moments, because a frenzy of overdubbed voices soon floods the music. Once the murmur fades, the groove settles into a rock-solid r&b, dominated by guitar and Hammond organ, with Booker T & The MG's and psychedelia as points of reference. The cocky stride of the transverse flute foreshadows, ever so slightly, the Jethro Tull discourse to come. Then the multiplied voices return once more, fading out all the way to the end.

Thus a masterpiece is born, a milestone that changes the very conception of rock, shaping all its future developments. Psychedelia will soon become a common language, accepted and reshaped into a new rock identity. Still, the album's impact on the public is significant: it lands in the British top ten (and without the help of the first three singles, not included on “Mr. Fantasy”), and flattered by offers of concerts in America, Traffic close out a hugely satisfying year on a high note. Both audience and critics are on their side, a bright future lies ahead of them. And it's only the beginning!

There will still be a few upheavals, however - radical stylistic shifts, break-ups, reconciliations, and at least one more great masterpiece bearing witness to the band's new direction. But that's another story.

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13/11/2006