This bizarre little novelty from the U.K. hit the charts in 1970, and was essentially a songwriter/factory sort of creation based on the one-hit wonder “Gimme Dat Ding!” Because of that success, eventually an album was released. The music collected here is a real throwback – basically, think vaudeville or Tin Pan Alley, played on a rinky-dink piano. The vocalists attempt to be outrageous by 1970 standards – the “singer” has a high-pitched, goofy whine, while the “speaker” has a street-wise grumble that’s a cross between Cockney and New Yorker. The run time is really short – something like 26 and a half minutes – so it won’t kill you to sample this at least once, although I wouldn’t blame if you did, and then thought, “what in the…?” The title track, admittedly, is a stupid novelty item I remember from my childhood, but it is just as dated as everything else on this platter. They try to be humorous, but nothing even comes close to producing a chuckle, unless you count embarrassment that you are actually listening to this thing. Lots of people hate the cover, but I think it’s the most redeeming quality of this LP. Otherwise, avoid.

By now, Simmonds had already swapped out a chunk of Foghat for a fairly good-sized piece of Brit blues warriors Chicken Shack, then lost those guys to general attrition – vocalist Dave Walker having famously decamped for a flop album with Fleetwood Mac – and here we are now with Savoy bubbling over with musicians, including guest ones listed in the credits. Jack the Toad is definitely slicker than earlier efforts, and even has Simmonds on lead vocals on a couple of tracks. But the erstwhile lead is a relative unknown – some dude named Jackie Lynton – whose thick English accent really comes out in the title track finale, about a Western gunslinger, who gets a little too “high” in his final, fatal battle. As per usual, it does not suck, but it’s not great, either – just your typical, workmanlike blues grooves and not-very-adventurous fare to have a whiskey or three to.

Yes, they still exist today, and their debut record came out originally issued in the UK only at the tail end of the “Summer of Love” when they were still being called the Savoy Brown Blues Band. The other general consensus is people seem to dig this without question – possibly because the band’s shtick is a novel item here? The tone is cleaner than just about any other blues-rock group of the day, Simmonds’ leads sear, and lead singer Brice Portius has a soulful set of pipes. And yet – like a whole lot of other Savoy Brown albums – what is collected here is really nothing too special, unless you were a hardcore aficionado of the British “blooze” boom. As it pertains to this record, they were damn near choirboys, in many ways, compared to Canned Heat and Fleetwood Mac – their closest competition. I am not going to spend much more time on this, and neither would Simmonds, who would jettison most of the lineup that recorded this one, and move onto slightly more ambitious material. In retrospect, a fairly representative indicator of what was to come, despite all of the future lineup changes.

The last Mike Harrison album of the 70's is easily the best of the lot, even though it has the most embarrassing cover, and it managed that on two continents, with two different covers. But Mike was apparently inspired from his last experience at Muscle Shoals, and recorded this one in Nashville with their cream-of-the-crop session musicians, which was a wise move. Rainbow Rider is appropriately titled; a varied palette, indeed, ranging from dirty R&B gut-rockers to wistful ballads to remorseful roots music to even his wizened take on old-time standards. Yes, he covers "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", and it sounds like classic Mike Harrison, just like everything else on this record. The album is also immaculately sequenced. If you're a Spooky Tooth or Brit blues fan, then the start of the album is right up your alley - "Maverick Woman Blues" is the perfect nut-cutting barroom rocker, suiting Mike's vocal perfectly - or does his vocal perfectly suit the song? And this is followed by a genuine slice of bass-bouncy, down-home funk - "You and Me" - which, if it ran any longer than three minutes would seem cartoonish, but Mike and the band wisely cut it before it runs too long. The midsection of the album is his wheelhouse - a Dylan cover ("I'll Keep it With Mine"), a Beatles cover ("We Can Work it Out"), a really interesting call-and-response deal between him and the background singers which he and Luther Grosvenor are credited with (the weirdly titled "Okay Lay Lady Lay"), and the gospel-heavy "Easy", which is reminiscent of those older 'Tooth songs where he and Gary Wright used to "duel" each other vocally, but now it's Mike versus a whole compliment of background singers! The end of the album contains the aforementioned oddball cover of "Rainbow" followed by "Friend", whose laconic yet paranoid groove and vocal so reminds me of late-period Spooky Tooth circa Witness, an album which a lot of people seem to dislike but I think is underrated. The sad thing is, Harrison discovered his record company was using the royalties from this and his other solo albums to pay debts incurred by his old band, which pissed him off so much he left the recording business for the next 20 plus years. What a loss, and what a shame for pop music in general.

Well, the last so-called classic-era Spooky Tooth album would not be complete without a few more lineup changes, and these are fairly interesting. First, Bryson Graham returned, replacing Mike Kellie. Second, and more important, Mike Patto was the replacement for Harrison as second lead vocalist, and he also brought in a bass player by the name of Val Burke. Unlike Harrison, Patto was quite the capable songwriter, and furthermore, was noted far and wide for his quirky personality, having been in lots of bands since the early 60's, including one named after him which was moderately successful. It would remain to be seen how his ego would mix with Wright's. As it turned out, not very well, because the new lineup recorded just this one album, toured, and apparently broke up a month after it was released. But the album itself is pretty good, mainly because Patto's presence seemed to have injected some much-needed energy into the slumbering Spooky Tooth mound. Most of the material generally fits into a nice arena-rock mold which is quite radio-friendly, but at the same time, not so banal that it would turn hard rock fans off. "Fantasy Satisfier" and "Two Time Love", the opening two tracks, fit the above description to a tee - dumb, sex-obsessed lyrics, but lots of good time grooves to be had. The better material here are these mystical ballads - moderate pre-cursors to Wright's solo career, I guess - like "Higher Circles", "I'm Alive", and the title track, where him and the band really gets out there on a psychedelic limb, kind of like the old days.