The Pretty Things
Get The Picture?

I light a cigarette, drink a beer while I continue in my uncontrollable mental loops of expanded paranoia. I feel the uncertain spring sticking to my worn-out soul, that sensation of seasonal rebirth, renewal, the desire to leave the home bunker to try to socialize and share with other individuals the repressed euphoria from a cold and unfortunate winter.

Obviously, my good intention fades into nothing, remaining imprisoned within the gray walls of the house made a tad more bearable by the paper remains of old musical glories cut out from ancient newspapers and carefully glued with monastic precision on the walls of my bedroom(?), like a bewildered teenager, I remain to observe and fantasize about the exploits of what were once my heroes. Nostalgic as I am, my gaze falls on one of the best bands of the 60s, years I did not live because I was not yet born, but thanks to some unknown neural combination, I perceive an engaging affinity with that magical and magnetic flow that enchanted myriad people active in that era.

Alright, here we are, after this melancholic prelude, I immediately insert into the player a wonderful record, still energetic and captivating despite its 41 years of life and begin to spiritually sway with the naive rocking intuitions of that group called Pretty Things, a band especially remembered for having given birth to the first concept album in history "S.F. Sorrow" (1968), a work I honestly admire, but I consider inferior concerning the expressive urgency and emotional verve that their second work managed to convey to me, I refer to that ramshackle and essential freakbeat sorbet named "Get The Picture ?" (1965!!!).

Shady individuals despite the cute and reassuring name, after wandering in the same environment frequented by the early Stones, knowing them also in the deeper intimacy due to the presence of Dick Taylor, a guitarist who played the cursed and fatal role that would soon continue gloriously by the unfortunate blonde angel known as Brian Jones, besides having attended the same school as the degenerate Keith Richard. After a distinctly r'n'b debut focused primarily on the reinterpretation of shards emanating from the black blues-men of the 50s, you find yourself facing a second album that has acquired an undeniable artistic personality, raucous fuzz-garage derailments, psych insights, attitudes and moves regarding the singer, reminiscent of a budding Jim Morrison.

In my hands, I have a cd reissue lent to us "youngsters" (eh eh eh!!!) by the repertoire rec. that did a masterful mastering job, including among other things, a full 6 violent bonus tracks, truly excellent and innovative, from the famous(?) "Midnight To Six Man" to the furious and shocking "Come See Me", the latter dated '66, filled with a heart-stopping R'n'R/Garage charge, in short, the first time I listened to it, knowing the publication date and the group in question, I was literally dumbfounded and blown away. Magnificent, a sensation that comes from the heart, without shame, you must get this record, original because it's really worth it, as it even contains 13 minutes of video track, truly exhilarating...

A Must, superlative! If you want rock and roll done thoroughly and "original," you must come here.