Boxer
Below The Belt

This unusual and provocative cover shot brought considerable publicity to the album at the time (1975). The very first pressing (unfortunately not available on the Internet) showed the lovely lady, a certain Stephanie Mariann, completely nude, in the strange pose seen here and nothing else. An immediate complaint was filed, resulting in the invention of the ridiculous collage/hodgepodge of leg+boxing glove to hide her pubic area; a solution nevertheless insufficient for the modest American market, where the incriminated cover was completely replaced with another, featuring a very ordinary photo of the band.

The Boxer were the evolution of Patto, a highly esteemed jazz-rock-progressive band among industry insiders but with a limited popular following, which had released three increasingly beautiful albums between 1971 and '73 before disbanding due to lack of adequate success. The two most prominent members, singer Mike Patto and guitarist, pianist, and vibraphonist Ollie Halsall, then separated for a couple of years, joining other bands before reuniting here with a brand-new rhythm section to try once more for solid success, this time accepting several commercial compromises as suggested by their new managers.

Patto had been a group brimming with creativity, irony, anarchic and progressive improvisation, instrumental escapades, and highly effective lyrics, sometimes nonsensical but in other cases political and touching. The Boxer instead aimed to stick to song format, straightforward and accessible but not exactly pop, without oddities or virtuosity, with a maximum duration of five minutes and standard lyrics. The result is a stylishly crafted pub rock, in which jazz, blues, and soul are almost always diluted and blended together, with taste and class but without real surprises. Two such brilliant and personal musicians nonetheless seem wasted on these very exquisite but harmless little songs... for instance, a music enthusiast who happened to hear Ollie Halsall's guitar for the first time ever on this album would have absolutely no idea what this musician, a true champion with a solo phrasing in "legato" of terrifying technical content and inventiveness, was capable of. Not to mention his keyboard excursions, with exemplary pianistic brilliance and originality on synthesizer and vibraphone (the latter two instruments completely overlooked in this work).

Patto's voice was also of absolute caliber, among the best within British rock blues: powerful, ironic, with a certain amount of muddy and drawling hoarseness that oddly brings it somewhat close to that of the late Bon Scott of AC/DC, naturally in a less extreme context, hence less screamed and more varied and rich in nuances.

Bassist and drummer (Tony Newman and Keith Ellis respectively) do not contribute much to the cause, remaining in their own worlds and offering competent support but without personal touches. There is regret for the two old Patto companions, particularly for John Halsey who struck drums and cymbals with his own distinguishable rugged and intense style, but also contributed with his wacky humorous streak to irresistible absurd gags.

The album's best tracks are titled "More Than Meets The Eye", a slow blues cadence featuring Halsall's only decently long and obviously beautiful solo, then "Save Me" with its very lyrical and vaguely Beatlesque march-like melody, and also "Hip Kiss", both funky, angry and distorted. "Waiting For A Miracle" is not bad, but doesn't hold up to the spectacular original version (12-string plucked frightfully, synthesizer fanfares, great and powerful sounds of real rock) released two years earlier on the album "Living In Fear" by Tempest, Halsall's previous band along with the now forgotten but excellent drummer (ex-Colosseum) John Hiseman.

The Boxer’s adventure, starting here, lasted three years and three albums, the third of which without Halsall who emigrated to Kevin Ayers' band but with Chris Stainton (current pianist for Eric Clapton) and Tim Bogert (phenomenal American bassist, with an endless and varied career). Patto left this world early, succumbing to a severe throat illness in 1979. Halsall joined him in 1992, falling to a cursed overdose in Spain: two great losers of rock, whose respective and common musical production, including this not transcendent but enjoyable work, I highly recommend collecting or at least discovering.