Now, Ridley, Clempson, and certainly not Peter Frampton would concern themselves with attempting to revive an old, broken-down hulk like Humble Pie. This time around, only Marriott and Jerry Shirley would be participating, along with Bobby Tench and Anthony “Sooty” Jones. It’s pretty easy to take both albums and throw them into the same basic bar-boogie bargain bin, but then again, isn’t that what the critics have done to the Pie for years, in general? I can agree neither album matches up to the classic super group lineup output, but there is a big reason for that, and it has nothing to do with the new additions with Tench or Jones. The saddest development here is Marriott and his hard-living drug and alcohol demons finally catching up to him. Vocally, mentally, performance-wise – all the way around you could tell this guy was aging far faster thanks to the hard living he had done up to this point in his life. When I first heard this one my hopes were up hearing the initial track, “Fool for a Pretty Face”, which honestly is one of the better singles from Steve and the Pie in a long time. I was really young at the time so I do not remember the exact circumstances, but the song scraped the edges of the Top 40, I think. Getting back to the album, though, the band follows up this tour-de-force with…” You Soppy Pratt” …which on the one hand, shows off the old Marriott spunk, but on the other hand, you cannot get over the feeling that the act is long beyond tired. Overall, the impression I got here was a group of guys half-heartedly trying a bunch of different things to see if they work or not. For example, there is a reggae song here (“Savin’ It”), which I do not have a problem with, but it’s pleasantly sloppy and more like a drunken sing-along gig.

The 70’s were a time when artists and bands entered into often-onerous deals, given mere months or even weeks between album releases (never mind recording sessions), and when those were not taking place they had to go out on tour, where incidentally, their real money was made. The story goes that the band’s record label got tired of waiting for the one last album which would theoretically end their run, and so they hired Andrew Loog Oldham to cobble together a coherent document out of material taken from sessions recorded at Marriott’s home studio. Most likely none of this was meant for a Humble Pie album, but it was marketed and promoted as such. The band got together and toured behind it, then split when the tour ended. Ironically, calling in Oldham to salvage the material had to had been an extra kick in the pants for Marriott, who had been extricated by his then-current management from a huge mess that was partly thanks to Oldham’s mismanagement back in the Pie’s early days, and now he was being thrown back into another, even weirder mess with Oldham’s name attached to it. The album itself is a joke. It sounds like outtake, demo-level material which should have never been released. There are three Beatles covers here which pretty bad, and maybe placed here out of self-sabotage. First, let’s start with the production values, which highlight the point above about demo-level material. Not that it doesn’t sound surface-decent, but even a person not in the business can tell more care has to be put in the product before it was ready for mass consumption. Just inexcusable. Then the songs themselves – well, a few of them have flickers of the old Humble Pie fire, like the cover of “Let Me Be Your Lovemaker” and “Street Rat”. But all too often, the band sounds tired and just wants to give up. Hell, “Road Hog” is about that very topic, and it’s depressing to listen to. The absolute nadir has to be the ballad rendition of “Drive My Car”, where they waste Ridley’s vocal talents on a real boneheaded idea which only people fueled by large amounts of cocaine use would think works. It is simply inexcusable. In sum, Street Rats was just a crap way for the group to go out, but one also got the feeling they ultimately called the final self-inflicted wounds.

And not so gradually, the wheels started to fall off. This was the “going through the motions” album. Except that the cover art was beautifully done, and tons of money was spent on the band to go through the motions to record this album. The funny thing is, when you peek inside the liner notes, you get the true meaning of what a “thunderbox” really is, because here are two naked women staring you in the face, about to go to the toilet! Ah, only in the 70’s…. Marriott and crew have not completely given up the ghost but it is clear, they are now on the tail end of their journey. The album is listed as being recorded at “Olics Sound, somewhere east of Guatemala”, and more than half of the 12 tracks are covers now. Additionally, the Humble Pie originals are all co-writes with one or more of the band members being involved, even though Marriott is listed as the sole producer. So, as one could probably tell, even before the Street Rats debacle, it could be argued the Pie was out of gas at the time of recording this album. Still, that did not prevent them from giving their all on quite a few tracks here and there. For example…. The title track – IMHO – is awesome, although quite indicative of the pickle the group now found themselves in. Subject matter-wise, it is frivolous, although if you think about it, the group was ahead of the curve in one respect – they recorded a catchy-as-hell ode to the women’s posterior, only about 20 years too early. “Thunderbox” is dirty, nasty, dripping with sex appeal, and probably containing about two or three STD’s doctors had not identified up to that point. It is also extremely self-referential – at least from Marriott’s point of view – even though Clempson, of all people, is jointly credited as well. If this song got a re-release in the early 90’s it would blow those wimpy Black Crowes off the charts. As it is, I fondly remember it as one of the high points of this record. Too bad it is the only original track from the group that stands out here. Where they shine is on the cover tunes, for the most part. Ann Peebles’ “I Can’t Stand the Rain” is given the show-tune treatment, presumably to highlight Steve’s vocals, which despite all of his self-abuse is a wise choice. This is followed by a gentle, soft rock-ish take on “Anna (Go to Him)” which is still rough and raw thanks to Marriott’s raspy vocal, but still, quite nice. Ridley’s only lead vocal is a near show-stealer, on “Drift Away”. They make this track sound more like Ian Hunter-era Mott the Hoople, curiously enough. Finally, the cover of “Ninety-Nine Pounds” is another classic take on R&B from this era of Humble Pie – slick and thick! That is the good material. As far as the rest of the lot goes – well, let’s take “Rally with Ali”, for instance, which is nothing more than a basic groove, Steve Marriott talking a bunch of disconnected shit related to Muhammad Ali, followed by the rest of the band chanting “Rally with Ali” every so often. As with the title track, it’s also indicative of the album in general – this was a group running itself ragged, as by this time they were working on multiple recording projects as well as touring without any rest to speak of. Tracks five through seven – “No Way”, the aforementioned “Rally with Ali”, and “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” – sound indistinguishable from each other, and it does not feel accidental. My take here is that a good half of an album was an accomplishment, considering the difficulties.

Eat It was yet another double LP set and it turned out to be their least essential, even though there are some good-to-great tracks to be found. The decision was made to hole up in Marriott’s home studio for months, to work on a massive undertaking which, in retrospect, comes off a bit like a mere vanity project. Freer rein was given in the form of three female backup singers, now known as The Blackberries. Their credibility with R&B-influenced musicians went through the roof, but audiences were most likely confused by the combination of soulful belters backing this ruffian bunch of English rockers used to entertaining the long-haired, drunken/druggie concert-going kids of early-70’s America. There are four separate, meant-to-be-distinct sides: the first one consists of normal, hard-driven Humble Pie fare, the second filled with downhome authentic R&B covers, the third is the softer, acoustic side of the group, and the fourth is of a portion of a live performance. The issue here, though, is a big technical one – because most of this was recorded in Marriott’s home studio, the mix was mixed up to the point where the studio tracks sound like muddy demos or rough live cuts. Ironically, the name of his home studio was Clear Sounds. Someone in their camp was either too lax or stoned to point this out in advance of the record being released. The only exception to this was the third, mainly acoustic side. That said, there is the backbone of a damn good album here. The whole first and second sides, once you get past the technical issues, are a neat continuation of the sound the band was going for on Smokin’. In some instances, because it sounds so raw, I actually prefer these versions over the slicker stuff of the previous effort. “Drugstore Cowboy” is the perfect example of what I am referring to. Even though 85% of the time Marriott’s vocal is buried down somewhere in the recesses of your left speaker, he somehow manages to drive this track by sheer willpower alone, overpowering those shrieking Blackberries if need be. The cover of “Black Coffee” is at turns the dumbest and most perfect thing Marriott and the group could have ever done. When it first comes on and Steve utters the initial line, you think “what the hell are they doing?” And then when it ends, you think, “this is too good, why is it ending NOW???” They also cover Ray Charles’ “I Believe to My Soul” in the old “show-tunes” style which is much appreciated, and even the cover of “Shut Up and Don’t Interrupt Me”, which had to have been done as a total lark, just seems to fit like a glove. The last side is good, too. Their take on “Honky Tonk Women” is OK, but the real winners are “Up Our Sleeves”, which was reasonably close to “Four Day Creep” which opened the Fillmore set, and an extended version of “Road Runner”. I guess I was least impressed with the third side, although of the four tracks “Beckton Dumps” was a real strong rocker in the typical Pie mold. However, the personal acoustic exercises I found to be forced, just scratching the surface mood-wise, then placed on the record for contrast. Overall, I like this one, but I can see it getting on people’s nerves really quick, and everything, right down to the basic format, could be construed as annoying to the average listener.

Smokin’ has one of the most generic, near-redneck-looking covers this side of the Atlantic, which meant that of course it was their highest-charting LP in the States ever! Concurrently, the sound has become less diversified, and more focused in a distinct hard rock-crossed-with-R&B vein. From here on out, the Pie would be pigeonholed as “boogie rock”, but that’s BS because Marriott and crew had a serious fetish for R&B during this period and did everything in their power to make their band sound like an arena rock version of an R&B band. The execution of this goal, over time, would become more and more questionable, but boogie rock? Grand Funk Railroad – as much as I dig that band – couldn’t hold the Pie’s jockstraps. That is boogie rock to me. Anyway, getting back to this album, where it appeared Marriott was the be-all end-all more than ever before and the material suffers a slight bit. But not much. There were two hits from the album, though – “30 Days in the Hole” and “Hot ‘n’ Nasty” – both of them up there with earlier classic cuts. Everyone and their mother know “30 Days in the Hole” by now – the lyric about “Durban poison” was long an inside joke within the band – but the joyous chants and raucous guitar licks and organ lines belies the darker turns which would soon befall the band. “Hot ‘n’ Nasty” hits every check mark on the Pie’s list at this point and time – a slick, but nasty R&B groove, a great vocal hook, and it was tailor-made for the dance floor. Great track. Another song in this category, surprisingly, is the “Road Runner/Road Runner’s ‘G’ Jam”, which clearly was the group just toying around in the studio covering “Road Runner”, but then it evolved into something more entertaining than a simple jam session. Too bad it feels a little short-circuited. “You’re So Good for Me” might as well be the reason a band like the Black Crowes exists, even though it is far from my favorite track here. Meanwhile, just to give people a different mood – because they were required to do things like this back in these days – “Old Time Feelin” is one of two spots featuring Ridley on vocals. The other one is “Sweet Peace and Time”, which in my mind is a lovely way to end this otherwise rough-and-tumble record. My guess is Marriott was not quite ready to completely ascribe to the notion that he was the absolute star of the show, but then again, who else could have carried “I Wonder”, a searing, towering, bluesy tour-de-force? I will not deny that cracks are starting to show in the foundation now. “The Fixer” and “C’mon Everybody” are the two tracks here which exemplify what is wrong with the new approach. These are out-and-out bruising rockers, seemingly all wah-wah force, but somewhere in the maelstrom you begin to wonder if Marriott himself was going to be able to hold up against the waves of unnecessary sound. The other issue was Clempson, who was a very good guitarist, and fit the band to a tee attitude-wise, but as stated before, the extra bit of class, taste, and contrast as provided by Frampton was now sorely missing. Still, Smokin’ – IMHO – generally lived up to the title. Worse stuff lies in wait.