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Rating:
There are (at least) two albums with an ear on the cover: one is "Meddle" by Pink Floyd, featuring a right ear, and the other is this one, which instead flaunts a left ear. The ear of Floyd is underwater, while this one is dry but has a mouth as an orifice.
As for the song "Blinded by the Light", there are also two versions: one is the original by Springsteen, quite bland in its slovenly Dylan-esque style and under-arranged. It opened his debut album in 1973 and was also chosen as a single, which nobody cared about at the time, as was rightly the case.
The other is here, on this album from three years later, completely redone by this British group highly specialized in revamping others' songs, of course mixed with original compositions. It so happened that when considering "Blinded...", most people think of this version, so much better and more successful that it indirectly also relaunched Springsteen's flat original narrative.
What is better about this cover that so boldly opens the album in question compared to the original version? Everything: dynamics, musicality, instrumental ideas, intriguing changes of atmosphere, a much more visceral and powerful voice, a significant restructuring of the sung parts even altering the melody and chords here and there. Delightful to start with is the organ and electric piano work in unison, one for each channel, playing the eighth notes in a Supertramp style, and then the sudden stop & go of the rhythm section, and also the incisive bass line. On the other hand, a bit outdated are those huge "breaths" and glissandos of the synthesizers, while the long crescendo of the solo guitar, with a pronounced wha wha pedal, is simple but effective. The track seems never-ending, extending beyond seven minutes, but hey, it was the seventies, it happened. Then, to release the single, it was cut down to three/four minutes.
All other contributions from the album, one of the quintet's best-selling thanks chiefly to "Blinded...", are the brainchild of Mann along with his companions, except for the pretentious "Singing the Dolphin Through" which comes from Mike Heron of the Incredible String Band and is ennobled by an extended and powerful final sax solo by the great Barbara Thompson (i.e., the blonde woman on the cover of "Valentyne Suite" by Colosseum, also the wife of their drummer).
None of the indigenous episodes come close to "Blinded..." in terms of instant seduction, also because the album decisively leans towards the progressive genre. Suffice it to say that it is supported by a twelve-member choir, and that Mann's mellotron often sloshes around in the arrangement, even briefly hinting at Stravinsky's theme from the ballet "Firebird".
Those interested in Mann's expertise and creativity on synthesizers are reserved for the final instrumental, whose title "Waiter, There’s a Yawn in My Ear" facetiously recalls that artistic idea of the cover that was mentioned.
Three stars + "Blinded..." = four.
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