Edgar Broughton Band
In Side Out

“So many lies and contradictions rage in our lives;” these are the words with which Edgar Broughton opens “In Side Out” (1972), the fourth album of his eponymous band, and it is already understood that his mood is certainly not the best. Can you blame him? In the aftermath of the third LP and the related tour, the group still struggles to emerge from the English underground and establish itself. And to think that the so-called “meat album” had plenty of radio-friendly songs... But after all, Edgar is not too interested in becoming a multimillionaire rock star; he just wants enough recognition so as not to have to continually embark on endless tours, often in less than favorable conditions, playing more than a few times without compensation, being hounded by authorities, and so on; all to maintain a respectable but not entirely exciting following. After about four years spent like this, it is also legitimate to be fed up. Moreover, for idealists of their kind, it is disheartening to see that world situations no longer show any indication of improvement: wars and conflicts continue, politicians are increasingly cynical and corrupt, civil rights are infringed daily, and so forth. All this plunges good old Edgar into a deep crisis, so he shuts himself in, isolates himself from the rest of the planet, and tells everyone to go to hell. But the other band members won't just sit and watch, especially the drummer, who is also his brother Steve, who actually loves the life “on the road.” Even Harvest seems unwilling to give up on the band. Record executives might have thought: “The Broughtons may not be cash champions, but nonetheless, they are a great band with good numbers. Sooner or later, they will learn to be less radical and more compliant, to not upset the country's law enforcement, to curry favor with the radios, etc. Meanwhile, as long as we have chart-toppers like Pink Floyd and Deep Purple on the roster, we can give them more chances without losing out.” To that end, a friend and the band's attorney visits Edgar and persuades him, not without some “help,” to turn back (an event promptly documented in the programmatically titled opener Get Out Of Bed). Maybe the mescaline is particularly good, and Edgar returns to real life, determined to take back his band, and with it, relocates to a villa in Devon to record “In Side Out.” Underground bands funded by major labels to compose and record: just like today, right? What's even more astonishing is that Edgar has truly decided to give everyone a piece of his mind, the music business that somehow supports him included, and to do so, he decides to put aside the already known fields, both the subversive sounds of the first two albums and the pop compromises of the third, and rely on some good, straightforward, and gutsy rock blues, not devoid of hard tendencies and experimental ambitions. The style is certainly less unpredictable and more classic, but the writing and execution are undoubtedly more solid and accurate. Ruthlessly labeled as a lesser work, probably because the band no longer has the revolutionary charge of the early years, “In Side Out” deserves to be rediscovered precisely for this: the desire to innovate and prove something always and regardless is worn out, now there is only a desire to play, no matter if the record will become a classic or if it won't add a damn thing to history. That is the right spirit, Edgar! Yes, because, to hell with snobbery, the work is truly a great listen even when it teeters on imitation and citation, as in a Chilly Morning Mama clearly, almost brazenly Stones-like, and in Gone Blue, rock 'n' roll à la Who with Beefheartian singing. And if it is in these cases, it can only be better when the band's personality takes over, and no, even if it strives to be “canonical,” it will never quite manage to be so: we are talking about the Edgar Broughton Band. Need some proof? Listen to I Got Mad (another title that says a lot about the general mood), a syncopated and hysterical blues, and the acoustic ballad Homes Fit For Heroes, bitter but not without a hint of sarcasm, which reflects on the conditions of war veterans—in this case from the First World War, in a sort of parallel with those from Vietnam. And what about the eleven minutes of funky hard rock of It’s Not You? An excellent display of talent and eclecticism from the formation—especially considering, according to chronicles, it is the result of a one-take recording—particularly from the frontman, in great shape both as a singer and guitarist and as a dramatist in the long and delirious recited second part. Musicians no longer green, thus more skilled and savvy. Only three years have passed since the explosive rawness of the debut “Wasa Wasa,” yet it seems many more have passed, as much as the band has matured. It's a pity that not many have understood or at least appreciated it: the record sells even less than the others, and the Broughton band seems destined to become a cult object rather than enter the rock Olympus. And yet, just to give more examples, if you listen to The Rake, doesn't it make you think it would have stood out in a record by a big name in rock blues? And the meditative Double Agent, a triple-time for guitar and voice alone, isn't it worthy of Leonard Cohen? But, after all, Gabriel Batistuta would have won the Ballon d'Or if, instead of aging at Fiorentina, he had moved to a big European club and won the Champions League...