Mott The Hoople: Mott - 1973

 

In the summer of 1973, three words mattered to me - Mott The Hoople. Yes, I had been "into" (using the contemporary vernacular) David Bowie since the autumn of 1972, but even then, at fourteen, there was something a little bit too effete about Bowie upon which to focus my adolescent admiration, despite my love for him. 

Mott The Hoople were different - they were LADS. Although they looked like some of the prefects did at my school when out of uniform - long hair, Afghan coats, and big flares, I always felt Mott could handle themselves in an apres-gig row - no-one would push Ian Hunter, Overend Watts or Mick Ralphs around, would they? Like The Clash after them, or The Jam, they were "our band" - a band of mates or big brothers to look up to. That is a feeling that really sums up my relationship with Mott The Hoople and it was one that always accepted them for better or worse. 

It's a mighty long way down rock 'n' roll....

To the music. Ian Hunter's extended, insistent piano introduction to the iconic All The Way From Memphis sets out the stall of this rocking good album. It is an absolutely storming track that tells the tale of Mick Ralphs losing his guitar while on tour in the USA. Roxy Music's Andy Mackay provides a superb saxophone solo and the "insane violin", as described on the credits, is provided by Graham Preskitt. The camp "all the way from Memphis" lines are from bassist Overend Watts. The song provided the group with their third hit single. Unfortunately, the single version edited the piano intro, which was sacrilege, in my book. Thankfully the album version has it in all its beautiful, clunking glory. 

The slightly overlooked Whizz Kid continued the rocking vein with a piano and bass-driven mid-pace number before we got all reflective with one of Mott's many killer big-production Hunter-penned ballads, the dramatic Hymn For The Dudes (name checking their breakthrough chart hit from the previous summer, All The Young Dudes, of course). Quiet, acoustically-backed verses lead into some deliciously overblown chorus parts at the song's climax. Check out Mick Ralphs' stunning guitar solo at the song's apex and Dale "Buffin" Griffin's drumming. 

A more than welcome chart hit followed with the catchy and gleefully singalong Honaloochie Boogie, which was, eight months after All The Young Dudes, proof that Mott could write chart hits in their own right. "My hair gets longer as the beat gets stronger, wanna tell Chuck Berry my news..." was a line I always liked. 

Now things get a bit tasty as the chaotic, shambolic and slightly menacing Violence showed they could indeed "handle themselves in a ruck", with its mock "just me and you, right..." "pub fight" scene and general frenetic ambience. All very early/mid seventies, wasn't it? Andy Mackay provides more great rock 'n' roll-style saxophone while the insane violin and Watts's camp vocal interjections are back again too.

Drivin' Sister is another classic, riff-laden sort of Stonesy Mott rocker of the kind they did so well in this period. Ballad Of Mott The Hoople is a corking "slowie" as Hunter details the band's past travails, name checking each member. It is a marvellously evocative and moving song written by Hunter for the band's fans and he addresses them in the lyrics - "you know all the tales we tell, you know the band so well". He also says that "somehow we let you down...". No, Ian, you didn't. Not at all. Never. 

Mick Ralphs' slightly dated-sounding I'm A Cadillac/El Camino Dolo Roso is probably the album's rambling low point with its extended instrumental fade out and Mick's vastly inferior (to Hunter) vocals. 

I Wish I Was Your Mother, though, is a fine example of Hunter's Dylanesque folk-rock to end proceedings. I have always loved it. "You realise you're failing 'cos you're so good" - it could have been written about Mott The Hoople, couldn't it?

Bands got away with 30 minute albums in those days. It is 30 minutes of enjoyable slightly glammy rock music, nothing more, nothing less. As those sort of albums went, however, this was up there with the best. I knew every note of it in 1973 and still do. I remember everything about the cover even down to the fact that the typing of the lyrics was credited to one Tina Young. Funny the things that you remember. 

Unfortunately, this was the album that saw original guitarist Mick Ralphs leave the band, shortly before the 1973 tour, having completed the album. He joined up with ex-Free singer Paul Rodgers and went on to have considerable success with Bad Company. He said of his departure - "....I was looking for an excuse to leave, I suppose. I'd been thinking about it for a long time. Since the band was becoming more and more Ian's thing, it just wasn't musically satisfying for me any more....".