Moving onto Tightly Knit, we come to (bar none) the most consistent, entertaining, thought-provoking, and head-scratching record in the entire run. I've heard it a ton of times and cannot compute why it was not a hit, but then again, look at the cover, listen to the music, and it's hard not to understand why it would only appeal to a niche audience. A few tracks here sound like they could have been played on radio at the time, especially "Hey Mama" and "Towards the Sun", which compared to earlier tunes was like a searing ray of Beach Boys-infused sunshine. But elsewhere, their dark sense of humor and often dim outlook on life was on full, unadulterated display. The second track from this album, "Shoot Her If She Runs", was simply a vicious diatribe on the end of a relationship, bolstered once again by Haycock's dangerous guitar. The only difference was, this time around, CBB was now concerned with one-upping the likes of Ten Years After and Led Zeppelin, and doing it with aplomb. And what about the instrument al "Who Killed McSwiggin", which sounded as if it came out of a movie car-chase scene? We will never know, of course, but just what was the inspiration for this very interesting section of the record? Meanwhile, Cooper sounded downright murderous on the late-night groove "Bide My Time", while the group's humor shone through on the album closer "That's All". However, as with the previous effort, there is an epic shadow overriding the entire album (including the cover) - "St. Michael's Blues" - which apparently was Pete Haycock's irreverent tribute to Irish blues great Rory Gallagher, by writing a song about his rather colorful socks. However, when you put this fierce, slow-burn blues tune together with the image that is on the cover, it really resonates with the listener - or at least this listener. Unfortunately, Tightly Knit marked the unconscious end of an era, as CBB from here began to make serious in-roads on the American market. 1972's Rich Man was certainly in the same vein as previous albums but not nearly as progressive, even though it sported a very creative cover. After the 1973 FM Live album, which broke CBB on a lower-to-mid level in the U.S., the old blues-rock days quickly became old hat, and then - irony of ironies - when they finally hit commercial pay dirt it was with "Couldn't Get It Right", a harmonious funk/disco song right at odds with the nascent punk movement in the UK. Sad but true.

An immediate step up on a lot of levels. If the debut album established the mood, then the follow-up not only showcases the band's chops but also is surprisingly diverse. The lead-off track, "Flight", is a loose, free-flowing instrumental which takes inspiration from the Butterfield Blues Band's East-West album and has a noticeable space-rock feel to it as well. After that lengthy aside, Cooper's gruff yet cool vocal cuts in on the classic "Hey Baby, Everything's Gonna Be Alright, Yeh Yeh Yeh" which anchors on Haycock's screaming repetitive slide riff, and practically sets the tone for next few years going forward, never mind the rest of the album. In fact, Plays On from here is pretty much classic to these ears, except for the last two tracks, which play like warmed over leftovers from the debut record. In between, they rollick and roll away like no one business on the fascinating "Cubano Chant", quote "Also sprach Zarathustra" and branch off into the ethereal on "Mum's the Word", switch back and from their normal dank blues groove to ragtime and back again on "Twenty Past Two/Temptation Rag", and score their first slow-burning blues number with "So Many Roads". Still, there was a feeling that it was not altogether in place as of yet.

The CBB - as I affectionately call them - stood proudly next to their so-called betters in the British blues-rock movement during the late 1960's and early 1970's and cut a string of records which went relatively unnoticed, but were as groundbreaking as any act in the genre. Led by singer and multi-instrumentalist Colin Cooper, these guys cut a mean, dirty, working-class swath on their gradual way to success in America. The ironic thing was, once they achieved that success, they were unable to sustain it, and what followed them - pub rock and punk rock - the very movements which should have credited them, tossed them by the wayside as relics of a bygone era. The debut album was released under the moniker "The Climax Chicago Blues Band" in early 1969. This was a subject which would cause issues with the band Chicago (at the time, known as the Chicago Transit Authority) and would cause the group to eventually change their name, but for now, simply causes confusion from a collector standpoint. Content-wise, the album is a bit pedestrian, but what separates them from a lot of other blues-rock acts is the willingness to pen and perform their own compositions. But the only real hint of adventure comes on the very last track, "And Lonely", a sad piano ballad which foreshadows the adventure and pathos of what would soon be encountered on future albums.

After three subpar albums the boys from Brownsville finally hit their stride on School Punks, which - if nothing else - was a fairly direct, succinct album with one general purpose – to nostalgically rock. Its' main point was to charm the listener with awkward stories of misadventures from their high school days. Apparently, the bookend tracks became minor chart hits, and to these ears, deservedly so. “Kings of the Party” is in the same ball park as their major hit “Smokin’ in the Boys Room”, but looser and more fun if you can believe it, for here the name of the game is the band celebrating their newfound fame. “I’m the Leader of the Gang” is a cover of a Gary Glitter song, and Brownsville is able to take the hooligan/soccer-style chants and give it more of a Midwestern high school football twist. Furthermore, the interplay between comedy and pop music on songs like “Mama Don’t Allow No Parkin” and “Fast Phyllis” is fascinating. When the band gets cover-heavy towards the end of the album the whole package starts to lose its’ luster for me a bit. I have images of the original artwork and I have to say; the overall theme is a good fit. The cover photo painting of the band is pretty scary, though, in that I actually remember guys looking like this back when I was in high school. But overall, this is the first real consistent start-to-finish Brownsville platter that holds real entertainment value.

Lost among what seemed like a sea of proto-punk releases from the Detroit area in the early 70's was this little-known debut platter from Brownsville Station. It's similar to the MC5's Back in the USA in that it revisits 50's rock 'n' roll through a 70's heavy rock lens, but Brownsville's approach was to use a mix of school-age innocence and easy humor. The drawback here is the material just is not that interesting, with two exceptions - jaunty yet destructive versions of "Roadrunner" and "Rumble". If you are a fan of heavy rock from this era it's worth a spin or two.