Mott The Hoople: The Hoople - 1974
Mott The Hoople's 1974 swansong is a mixed bag. After rising to glam rock heights with David Bowie's initial impetus with corking albums in All The Young Dudes and Mott, they were gone almost as quickly as their star had risen. It was a shame but probably for the best. Sounds awful that, doesn't it?
You just felt it couldn't go any further, though, and to be brutally honest this is a bit of an uneven album, lacking cohesion and direction. Guitarist Mick Ralphs had left the previous year to join Paul Rodgers in Bad Company and this left Ian Hunter do everything himself, something he felt he over-compensated for. Replacement guitarist Ariel Bender (Luther Grosvenor) never really fitted the bill for me, being a bit too comic-book rock star. So, despite some strong points on the album, it was also the product of a band beginning to fall apart.
Let's join the ninety-six decibel freaks....
The lead-off single The Golden Age Of Rock 'n' Roll is a lesser All The Way From Memphis, with its similar piano intro, but is nonetheless an enjoyable retro rock n roll romp. It is full of blaring saxophone together with a really strong Hunter vocal. Mott were pretty much guaranteed hits now too and it duly became Mott's fifth consecutive hit single.
Marionette is a dense, complicated rocker dominated by Hunter's leering voice plus the ludicrously-named new guitarist Ariel Bender's dentist drill axe. It is full of mood and melody changes that make it sound more than a bit clumsy in places. It is redeemed by some convincing rock parts.
Alice, however, is a great Hunter Dylanesque rock ballad, one of my favourites on here, packed full of atmosphere and great lyrics. In contrast, the chaotic Crash Street Kidds is a second rate take on Violence from Mott. A bit of a mess. You jut got the impression that the old creative juices had dried up again with tracks like this. However many times I listen to it, it never fails to underwhelm me. To be horribly frank, it's bloody awful.
Born Late '58, bassist Overend Watts' contribution, is a bit of a "Ringo song", his dull, expressionless voice not a patch on Hunter's, although many long time fans seem to love it.
Hunter's Trudi's Song brings the quality back with a touching, laid-back, gentle organ-driven ballad dedicated to his wife. It is a bit of a hidden gem on the album. You can often tell a true Mott the Hoople connoisseur if he/she comes up with this in their "best of" lists. Pearl 'n' Roy (England), probably my most favoured track on the album, is a wonderfully evocative upbeat, saxophone-dominated rocker, full of references to the contemporary political situation in 1974. Every time I hear it, it takes me right back - most nostalgic.
Through The Looking Glass, perfectly exemplifying the schizophrenic nature of the album, is a virtually unlistenable racket, particularly on the deafening, bombastic chorus parts and there follows a far inferior version of Roll Away The Stone to the original single version. Quite why they decided to re-record the song is unclear as the original had so much more "oomph" to it, anyone can hear that. These last two tracks provided a distinctly disappointing end to proceedings, and indeed to Mott The Hoople's studio output.
Despite the patchy nature of the album, though, there were still some really good tracks on the it, - well, five and a half actually - but you couldn't help but get the impression the group were running out of steam somewhat. It proved to be the case, unfortunately. Sadly, a few months later it was all over.
The non-album singles and an unreleased rarity from this period were -
Foxy Foxy, which was a single in the summer of 1974 and was a glorious, Spectoresque number with a Be My Baby-style intro and saxophone-drenched extended fade-out. It was not really like anything Mott The Hoople had released before and sort of stands alone as a quite unique single.
Lounge Lizard, which re-appeared in 1975 on Ian Hunter's debut solo album. Here it is recorded as one of Mott's final numbers. it is a robust mid-paced, riffy and muscular rocker. Hunter's vocals are clearer on the later re-recording but there is a raw, edginess to this one that I like. So, along with the next track, another Mott album had three possible tracks ready, but that is as far as they ever got with it.
Then, lest we forget, there was the glory of Saturday Gigs. Now, what can I say about Mott's wonderful, elegiac "goodbye" to us all. Released in October 1974, the group were pretty much done and they knew it. Hunter's mate Mick Ronson had arrived on guitar and they somehow managed to give us this one last Mott classic. The song goes through their career, year by year, from 1969 to 1974. It's bloody marvellous. I can never hear it without being moved as the Mott choir sing "goodbye" at the end, the saxophone wails and good old Ronno's guitar sees us home.
The Saturday Kids is a most interesting rarity - an early, extended version of Saturday Gigs with the same theme but different lyrics, although Ian Hunter garbles them somewhat and they are a bit difficult to make out. At 1.48 it goes into the more familiar parts of the song, but again with a few different lyrics. I love the "hey man, you wanna party" aside too. It is not as good as the original but it still has its great moments, particularly Hunter's "dudes"-style spoken outro.
Anyway, sadly, a few months later it was all over. Goodbye lads. Don't forget us. We won't forget you.
