[TR24][OF] Mott The Hoople - The Atlantic Studio Album Collection 1969-1971 - 2014 (Rock)

Enough works on Mott the Hoople's eponymous debut album, and enough is so imaginatively freewheeling, that it's easier to think of the record as a bit more successful than it actually is. After all, their combination of Stonesy swagger, Kinks-ian crunch, and Dylanesque cynicism is one of the great blueprints for hard rock, and its potential is apparent the moment their monumental instrumental "You Really Got Me" kicks off the record. This is followed by two covers, Doug Sahm's "At the Crossroads" and Sonny Bono's "Laugh at Me," that demonstrate their musicality more than their depth, since all three of these songs sound like they derive from the same vantage point. Then, to cap it off, Ian Hunter turns in "Backsliding Fearlessly" and Mick Ralphs gives Mott their first anthem with the pile-driving "Rock and Roll Queen." Up to this point, Mott the Hoople is wildly imaginative and invigorating, and that's enough to make this a fine debut, even if it falls off the tracks during the second side. The first side and those two originals reveal a band whose rowdy power is matched by sly humor, clever twists, and fierce intelligence – all qualities they built a career on, and this blueprint still stands the test of time.

If Mott the Hoople's debut album cheerfully careened all over the place, their second, Mad Shadows, has one direction – downward into dense murk. Cutting out most of their humor and ratcheting up the volume, the group turns out seven songs that alternate between thundering rockers and sludgy introspection. This all sounds good on paper, but Mad Shadows isn't a thrilling journey into the darkside, simply because the band and producer Guy Stevens are so unfocused that it barely holds together, despite such fine moments as the rampaging "Walkin' with a Mountain" and the closing ballad "When My Mind's Gone." Any record with songs as strong as these is worth hearing, and it's possible to find the confusion itself rather fascinating, but only if you're dedicated enough to delve into darkness with the band. Otherwise, this is primarily of interest as a transitional affair, with its best moments showcased on the excellent compilation, Backsliding Fearlessly.

Since they had little success and seemed to be going off the tracks, Mott the Hoople was encouraged to produce their third album with anyone that wasn't Guy Stevens. Eventually, they chose themselves, creating a record that is bright and punchy, standing in direct contrast to Mad Shadow's enveloping fog. They wound up with Wildlife, a record that still seems a little transitional, yet is considerably more confident, unified, and enjoyable. Ironically, even if this is a much better record, few songs are as immediately gripping as "Walkin' with a Mountain," but both Mick Ralphs and Ian Hunter turn out some fine rockers, while driving the group toward some interesting territory, like the string-drenched "Waterlow," the country-tinged "It Must Be Love," and the ambling "Original Mixed-Up Kid," or even the surprisingly straight and faithful reading of Melanie's "Lay Down." These give the record a slightly rural feel, lending credence to the title, and the album is unique in Mott's decidedly urban body of work for that very reason – it's lighter, quirkier, and more friendly than the rest. Of course, it didn't widen their audience, and they returned to brutal rock with Brain Capers, but in retrospect it's a charming anomaly in their catalog.

Re-teaming with producer Guy Stevens, Mott the Hoople delivered the great forgotten British hard rock album with their fourth outing, Brain Capers. Stevens was a legendary rock & roll wildman and he kept Mott careening through their performances; they sound harder than ever, even dangerous at times. Fortunately, this coincided with Ian Hunter's emergence as a fantastic songwriter, as tuneful and clever as any of his peers. All these changes are evident from the moment Brain Capers kicks in with the monumental "Death May Be Your Santa Claus," a phenomenally pile-driving number that just seems inevitable. As it gives way to a cover of Dion's "Your Own Backyard," it becomes clear that Mott have pulled off the trick of being sensitive while still rocking. And that's not the end of it – they ride an epic wave on the nine-minute "The Journey," pull off a love song on "Sweet Angeline," and generally rock like hell throughout the record. The most amazing thing about the album is that none of the songs really change character – it's all straightforward hard rock, graced with Dylanesque organ – but there are all sorts of variations on that basic sound, proving how versatile they are. It's a fantastic album, and stands as the culmination of their early years. When a record this confident and tremendous is stiffed, it's little wonder they thought about chucking it all in; and it isn't a surprise that, when they decided to continue, it was with a change in sound. They couldn't have topped this if they tried.