(Rythm'n'Blues) The Paramounts (pre-Procol Harum) 1963-1965 - Whiter Shade of R'n'B - 1983, FLAC (image+.cue), lossless

The Paramounts are to Procol Harum exactly in the same way as Denny Laine's Moody Blues are to Hayward/Lodge's Moody Blues: an early predecessor with decent quality songs but not a whole lot of interesting things about them; judging by the Paramounts' material, you'd hardly guess they would grow up to become one of Britain's most noteworthy art rock bands. The band's constant members throughout its existence were Gary Brooker and Robin Trower; however, most of its studio recordings were done with Barry J. Wilson on drums, and an early version of the band had Chris Copping as its bass player, so it's funny to see how Procol Harum was actually falling back on its predecessors all the time. (Remember that PH's first single, 'Whiter Shade Of Pale', was actually recorded by a fictitious band - Gary had to assemble a real lineup only after its huge commercial success, and this is where all the old pals, starting from Trower, began to arrive. Copping, as you remember, joined the band in 1970).
The most interesting thing about the Paramounts - perhaps - is that, unlike so many more or less renowned British R'n'B combos of the early Sixties, they were formed really early: they never ripped off the Beatles in earnest, playing their first shows as early as 1960 or so. Consequently, their style was somewhat different: less rooted in rock'n'roll and quirky-jerky dance pop, but leaning far more closely towards the Motown/Stax-Volt edge of things. Which is also, as far as I can guess, the main reason why the band was almost never looked upon seriously: Motown influences weren't exactly the trendiest, nor the most artistically valid ones in an epoch dominated by 'She Loves You' and 'The Last Time'.

Whiter Shades Of R'n'B is an excellent and all-encompassing compilation that collects together all of the Paramounts' six singles from 1963-65, plus throws in four more previously unreleased cuts. (There is actually an even more rarity-packed collection out there, called Abbey Road Decade, but I've never seen it). This is just enough to realise what kind of a band the Paramounts were. And they were? Why, they weren't anything particularly special. An overall rating of nine is about the maximum I can afford to a record that's mostly dedicated to inferior re-arrangements of inferior R'n'B covers - I mean, most of the song titles, even if they were mostly not written by the band members, never told me anything. I kinda hoped that 'It Won't Be Long' would turn out to be their take on the Beatles song, but it came out to be one of the few originals (actually, the first song written by the Brooker/Trower duo - hold out the champagne glasses), and a pretty weak one, too. Definitely nothing offensive or stupid, but I'll have to join the general chorus that screams out: 'Historic Interest! BOO!'
Professionally speaking, the band is skilled enough, but not any more than that. The sound is entirely dominated by Brooker's keyboards; in fact, you might easily sit through an entire half of this record without realizing that there actually is a real guitar somewhere on here. But even when it appears (and it turns out that Trower was almost never allowed to solo on the earliest singles), it's a far cry from Robin's future playing; apparently, it took him to assimilate and accumulate all that Hendrix influence in order to become the awesome talent he actually became. All right, I agree it's debatable as to whether somebody can actually become a talent, but let us make an assumption, all right? Let us just make an assumption!
Melodically, the only thing that naturally jumps out at the listener is the lead-in track, Leiber/Stoller's 'Poison Ivy', the song that briefly made the band minor stars in 1963 and even spawned them a serious boost from the Rolling Stones, who called the band the 'best R'n'B outfit in England' or something like that. Their only chart success (something like #35, as far as I remember), it's really cute and tight, even if I myself would still prefer the song in the Stones' own version. But after that, it's just one mediocre number after another, occasionally pumping up some steam but more often losing it. To make matters worse, some of the selected covers are utterly stupid and certainly far from welcome, like the idiotic 'A Certain Girl' (the incessant 'what's her name? - can't tell!' chorus really bugs me), or the lyrically childish 'Blue Ribbons' (heck, stuff like 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand' sounds like Arthur Rimbaud in comparison).
The only tune, in fact, that's really outstanding is their version of P. F. Sloan's 'You Never Had It So Good', ironically, the band's last single. Never heard the original, but the cover is a marvel - that sarcastic, tasteful Dylanish chorus really makes up for any other inconveniencies one might suffer. And oh yeah, that last track, the unreleased version of Charlie Mingus' 'Freedom', is at least attractive because it sounds nothing like the rest of the stuff on here. Moody, slow, with ominous poetic declamations, almost psychedelic in a sense. Transitional between the Paramounts and Procol Harum? Who can tell.
To redeem myself, I'd like to reiterate that this package really does have a lot of historical value - and it's vital not only for Procol Harum fans (actually, it ain't vital for Procol Harum fans at all, because any Procol Harum fan is bound to be seriously disappointed), but also for just about anybody interested in a deeper and more diverse understanding of Britain's pop music in the first half of the Sixties. (In addition, you'll also get a better understanding of why Gary Brooker has so much fun performing all those old R'n'B numbers on Bill Wyman's Rhythm Kings albums - he even resurrected 'Turn On Your Lovelight' for Double Bill). We all know the Stones, the Animals, the Kinks, and the Who; some of us may have also heard of the Hollies and all the innumerable bubble gum bands like Herman's Hermits; but the Paramounts were certainly different from them all, and even if that doesn't necessarily suggest high entertainment value, it certainly suggests a nice little broadening of the perspective. So grab it if you see it cheap, and it might just make your day.

Gary Brooker - vocals, piano
Mick Brownlee- drums
Chris Copping- bass
Diz Derrick- bass
Bob Scott - vocals
Robin Trower - guitar
Phil Wainman - drums
B.J. Wilson - drums