David Byron
Take No Prisoners

HE WANTED TO GO TO THE SUN, HE WANTED TO SWIM IN THE RAIN,

HE WASTED HIS TIME, DRINKING WHISKY AND WINE,

BUT NOW HE'S COME BACK AGAIN!

He returns once again, and on the pages of DeBaser, a character many know as the legendary vocalist of URIAH HEEP, but this time he's back as a solo artist, in a debut album labeled 1975 that is actually his first album under the name DAVID BYRON. Perhaps not everyone knows, however, that his solo career had already begun quite some time earlier, in the second half of the '60s, as a cover singer, and under his real surname: the very young DAVID GARRICK, a natural talent since childhood, initially entertaining relatives and friends, found himself in the heart of Swinging London to sign a contract to continuously record his renditions of the hits of the moment, primarily published on 45s and sold at a competitive price compared to the original artists' tracks—a job that ensured him a solid financial return and that other singers who later became famous, such as ELTON JOHN, used to make a name for themselves in the varied landscape of English Pop at that time.

Thinking about the sad decline of his career, these beginnings showed, on the contrary, an extremely careful and prudent management: it took the worldwide success of the Heep's third album LOOK AT YOURSELF to convince him to close that contract forever. Until 1971, he continued to record covers on his own, published later on entire LPs solely for the purpose of profiting from the millions of copies the band sold.

In February 1975, a clearly alcoholized yet still positively charged David Byron takes advantage of a break following the album WONDERWORLD and the problems related to the departure of bassist GARY THAIN, soon resolved with the entry of JOHN WETTON, to fulfill his dream: a superstar solo album. He surrounds himself with old friends: the trusty MICK BOX and LEE KERSLAKE to guarantee a link with his band's tough and imaginative sound, the former Paladin and McGuinness Flint LOU STONEBRIDGE on keyboards, co-author of several tracks, and the former Bedlam DANNY BALL on bass. If you take a look at the Credits, certain disagreements with the rest of the Heep, those who were already working against him due to his excesses, are already evident: therefore, MR. HENSLEY and MR. WETTON are thanked almost provocatively for their contribution in a few pieces. Referring to them as Mister is a thank you that speaks for itself... a very elegant FUCK YOU!

The start is one that cannot be forgotten: MAN FULL OF YESTERDAYS immediately showcases a passionate solo by Box on a gothic mellotron base, a masterpiece by Wetton, which takes over, anticipating the prophetic phrases with which I opened this review: it seems that the piece was dedicated to Gary Thain, destined for a tragic end, but it perfectly fits the idea even in Byron's case, as flamboyant as ever in a stellar vocal performance, softened in a final wall of sound made of piercing screams in an atmosphere tense to the breaking point: if it had been included instead of PRIMADONNA, the subsequent band album, RETURN TO FANTASY, would have absolutely justified this title.

After such a salvo, the rest of the tracks fail to measure up: it is only a spectacular vocal performance that saves pieces not particularly inspired like the pop of SILVER WHITE MAN, which recalls SEVEN STARS and certain easy group melodies, the seductive LOVE SONG that echoes the romantic wonders of RAIN and THE EASY ROAD, the unpublished funk of STEAMIN' ALONG, with its dynamic clavinet groove, up to an attempt at spiritual in SWEET ROCK'N'ROLL, built on the vocal exploits of a large number of guests, among which the ubiquitous CHANTER SISTERS. Rock outbursts with Mick Box as the protagonist in MIDNIGHT FLYER and HIT ME WITH A WHITE ONE try to toughen things up, but it is schizophrenia that rules this album, and Byron proves it in STOP (Think What You're Doing), in which he simply celebrates himself, and together with the backing vocalists, he unleashes a rock'n'roll ballad complete with a '50s piano, still holding tight that thread linked to the old covers, only this time the signature on the piece is his...

Typical album of that mid-'70s rich in solo attempts by established rockstars, it is something more for me: an unwitting and distant singing master for my exuberant young voice, a voice I followed and imitated closely, trying to overpower it while the record spun... someone like that didn't deserve to die poor and alone... THANK YOU DAVID.