Edgar Broughton Band
Edgar Broughton Band

Ah, time... If it's true that it's the cure for all ills, it's equally true that it can erode everything and consign the beautiful things to oblivion. How else can one explain the indifference and ignorance that surrounds the Edgar Broughton Band, a highly underrated ensemble from the British underground scene between the late Sixties and early Seventies? The brothers Edgar and Steve Broughton, respectively guitar/vocals and drums, and the bassist Arthur Grant, from Warwick, are one of the most underrated realities in all of rock. And to think that at the beginning, the numbers were on their side: signed by Harvest, their producer was Peter Jenner, who had already worked with Pink Floyd, they played in hugely populated music festivals (certainly not as headliners, but nonetheless they also performed at Hyde Park and Glastonbury, among many others), and in 1970 they achieved an impressive and unexpected 18th place in the UK charts with their second album “Sing Brother Sing.” The current cult band status would be somewhat understandable if one listens to the first two works: this latter and the incendiary debut “Wasa Wasa” from '69 are remarkable works of undeniable originality, though not easy listening, with their acerbic and unsettling mix of hard blues, psychedelia, and art-rock, making them rather elitist in consumption. What is hard to explain, however, is why their self-titled third album in 1971 did not become a bestseller, given its enormous potential. Perhaps the disturbing artwork, showing a naked man hanging upside down among pieces of meat, which led to the album being known as “the meat album”, didn't help, but it wouldn't be the first or the last famous record to feature a shocking cover. Possibly their declared political stance, uncompromisingly anarchic-leftist, also led to a sort of media ostracism against them, but considering how many famous and successful musicians have taken uncomfortable positions against the establishment, this cannot entirely account for their status as a “minor band.” Who knows, then... But let's get to the point.

If political and social ideals remain intact, a stylistic shift is undoubtedly evident. Setting aside the schizophrenic experimentalism that previously characterized them, the trio opted for broader and more accessible solutions, calling back to the team another guitarist, Vic Unitt from Pretty Things, who had already been with them for some time at the beginnings, to realize this self-titled third album with the help of none other than David Bedford for the arrangements. More melodic solutions and a more frequent pop taste prevail: it's clear how the group, perhaps not without pressure from the label, listened carefully to what occupied the upper charts and conformed their originally very aggressive sound. This is only recalled by The Birth, still phenomenal, a powerful hard version of Captain Beefheart's twisted blues, who has always been Edgar Broughton's guiding spirit. The other hard rock track, I Don't Know Which Day It Is, is more akin to the dry and energetic power chords of Free than the distressing textures of “Wasa Wasa”. This says a lot about the new, more “radio-friendly” stylistic direction, comforting in a sense, but of great value. Acoustic guitars and more reflective atmospheres are preferred: listen to the Dylan-esque opener Evening Over Rooftops, the brilliant country-folk of the pacifist anthem Piece Of My Own, halfway between the fellow nationals Fairport Convention and American West Coast of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, the whimsical blues for voice and guitar only, Poppy, and the catchy House Of Turnabouts. And the psychedelic funk rock of Madhatter? It sounds like a jam between Jimi Hendrix and none other than the “Mad Hatter of Rock” Syd Barrett: both would have been delighted by it, if only at the time of release one wasn’t already deceased and the other wasn’t inexorably losing his mind. To be fair, the consistent attention to the then most valued rock proposals on the market yields a couple of slight imitations, yet forgivable: Thinking Of You is rightly noted by “AllMusic” as similar to John Lennon's Working Class Hero and For Doctor Spock Parts 1 & 2 bears a notable resemblance to Fat Old Sun by Pink Floyd (in this case, however, the admiration must have been mutual: I am ready to bet that Waters and company listened to the here-present What Is A Woman For? - a monumental soul-blues tour de force - before writing Shine On You Crazy Diamond). In any case, beautiful, eclectic, and inspired, although it might not be their most original venture ever, “Edgar Broughton Band” would have had all credentials to become a classic. Yet it didn't go beyond a decent momentary success, nonetheless inferior to the past ones (halting at the 28th place), only to end up in oblivion, and that’s a real shame. Better late than never: my advice is to recuperate it, you won’t regret it. Four and a half stars, which I am gladly rounding up to five.

P.S. In an attempt to arouse some interest in the band with this review, I suggest to those unwilling to resort to the most basic download, the “Original Album Series” box set: very appealing and quite economical, it includes the first five albums in the original editions (thus lacking the bonus tracks of the reissues, including legendary singles like Out Demons Out, Apache Dropout and others, but that would be really asking too much...).