Mott the Hoople Albums (11)
'Live Fillmore West: San Francisco'
Release Date 7/4/2006
Tracks 15
Label Angel Air
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
In 1970, Mott the Hoople embarked on a U.S. tour, closing out their excursion that July with a four-night extravaganza at the Fillmore West, second on the bill to a headlining Quicksilver Messenger Service. It wasn't the band's first trip to the States, but now they were promoting their debut album, which had hit the shops the previous fall in the U.K., but was held back in the U.S. for a spring release. The bulk of Live Fillmore West: San Francisco is drawn from these shows, and although the sound quality is far from pristine, still the CD captures the ferocity of the Hoople's performance. The CD picks up the gig with their incendiary cover of "Darkness Darkness," one of a pair of non-album covers they performed live that night, along with a storming take on "Keep- a-Knocking." Mott's eponymous album featured a few covers as well, and onstage they let loose with a ferocious "You Really Got Me," while their own "Rock'n'Roll Queen" is positively thunderous. Their version of "At the Crossroads" is chiming British blues at its best, while "Thunderbuck Ram," one of two tasters for their second album, leaves the blues behind, as the Hoople stake a banner in the hard rock/metal realm. It's pretty evident that Mott must have blown Quicksilver straight off the stage. Counter-intuitively though, the disc opens with four numbers recorded live at the Fillmore West the following year (most likely because of their superior sound quality), kicking off with a glorious "Angel of Eighth Avenue." Here Mott sounds much freer, at times even a bit ramshackle, but absolutely exhilarating. And if all that wasn't enough, the disc finishes with a previously unreleased demo of "The Wreck of the Liberty Belle," recorded circa late 1969/early 1970 with Chris Kimsey. Although never brought to final fruition, this instrumental still boasts a surprisingly savage power even in this raw state. ~ Jo-Ann Greene, All Music Guide
'Shouting and Pointing'
Release Date 1/1/1976
Tracks 9
Label Columbia
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
The remnants of Mott the Hoople truncated their name to Mott with 1975's Drive On, and retained the shortened moniker for Drive On's sequel, 1976's Shouting and Pointing. New lead vocalist Nigel Benjamin sometimes decides to escalate into a falsetto on the album, while the group attempts to stay true to Mott the Hoople's loud, glammy update of old-time rock & roll and Ian Hunter's wry, self-deprecating wit. When Hunter commented on the plights of a rock & roll band to a heavy Chuck Berry beat, his humor was sharp, the melancholy was deep, and the music rocked hard, and here, the band tackles balls-out rockers, two-part epics, and the "Ballad of Mott the Hoople" rewrite "Career (No Such Thing as Rock 'n' Roll)." Shouting and Pointing isn't necessarily unlistenable, and follows the same form one would expect from the band, albeit with less success. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Few bands have a sadder coda than Mott the Hoople. Top of their game for three glorious years, one of the U.K.'s best-loved bands for six, the group should have come to a grinding halt the moment frontman Ian Hunter walked out. They'd lost key members before, of course: organist Verden Allen, who composed one of the finest songs in the band's entire repertoire, the churning "Soft Ground"; guitarists Mick Ralphs and Ariel Bender, both of whom drove the group to distinctly different, but similarly spellbinding peaks during their years of lieutenanthood. But Hunter was different. Not only did he sing the majority of the songs, he wrote them as well, while his public image -- long fizzy hair, omnipresent shades -- was so universally well-known that, to many onlookers (the staunchest fans included), he WAS Mott the Hoople. Rhythm section Overend Watts and Bufin, and latter-day keyboard player Morgan Fisher felt otherwise. Recruiting two unknowns to fill the void (guitarist Mick Ronson departed with Hunter) and abbreviating the band name to its most recognizable syllable, the trio began work on a new album almost immediately -- and one still wonders what was really going on in their minds. Of the five, only Watts had any songwriting experience to call upon; indeed, his "Born Late 58" was one of the highlights of 1974's The Hoople album. But any hopes that he might blossom à la an ex-Beatles George Harrison, or post-Vince Clarke Martin Gore were soon to crumble. The best songs (the first 45, "Monte Carlo," the driving "It Takes One to Know One") have absolutely nothing to do with the Hoopling of old; the worst (pretty much the rest of the record) are those which admit that fact. Mott emerged a dour, dry little record, its contents content to scour the rockiest edges of the old band's charm, but with none of the humor, none of the élan, and certainly none of the temperamental flash which made the original band so special. And to think, this was only their first album. ~ Dave Thompson, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
By 1974, Mott the Hoople was quite possibly the greatest concert band in the world, a blur of high-energy rock, high content poetics, and high camp costuming -- Ian Hunter the tough guy in leather and shades; Ariel Bender the street kid, all satin hat flash; Overend Watts, the freakoid in skyscraper thigh boots; and a live show which out-dressed the lot of them. If any band deserved a live album, it was Mott. And if any live album failed to deliver, it was this one. Today, the album's deficiencies seem less severe. Though the band's Bender era remains considerably less well-documented than the earlier Mick Ralphs period, still live material has poured out from a variety of sources, from the Shades of Ian Hunter compilation to the All the Young Dudes box set, and onto the spring 2001 reissue of Bender's own Floodgates solo album (an excellent version of "Here Comes the Queen"). There's even a quasi-legal fan club release for the 1974 King Biscuit broadcast which remains the highpoint of the band's live career. Live, however, remains the only official document of the glory, and the problems commence on the back cover -- a great shot of the band performing "Marionette" on a stage hung with puppets, when the song itself is nowhere in sight. Two shows recorded five months and two continents apart (London's Hammersmith Odeon in December 1973; New York's Uris Theater in May 1974) are highlighted by just seven songs and one medley. The hits "All the Young Dudes" and "All the Way From Memphis," of course, are present, but the remainder of the track list is bizarre to say the least -- the ballads "Rest in Peace" and "Rose" were British B-sides only, while "Sucker," "Walking With a Mountain," and "Sweet Angeline" were never much more than filler on their own original albums (Dudes, Mad Shadows, and Brain Capers, respectively). The medley is mightier, spanning both Mott's own history, and rock & roll's in general -- who, after all, would deny the band their own exalted place in the lineage which stretches from "Whole Lotta Shakin'" to "Get Back" and beyond (the uncredited snatch of Bowie's "Jean Genie")? But even here, one cannot help but think more must have happened that night than a breakneck assault on a handful more cuts -- and sure enough, it did. The Hammersmith show was the night when the management tried to halt the gig during the closing number, and wound up causing a riot. The liner notes remember it well, but the "Mountain" here was found in New York. It is a great album in its own way, the band are in terrific form, and Bender plays the guitar hero better than anyone else of his entire generation. But Mott gigs, like their albums, were about more than simple snapshots -- that was what made the band so important, that's what made their music so memorable. And that's what the fearfully episodic Live completely overlooks. ~ Dave Thompson, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Mott was so good that the sequel, appropriately named The Hoople, has been unfairly dismissed as not living up to the group's promise. No, it doesn't compare to its predecessor, but most records don't. The bigger problem is that Mick Ralphs chose to leave during the supporting tour for Mott, leaving Ian Hunter as the undisputed leader of the group and subtly changing the character of the band's sound. Even with Hunter as the band's main songwriter, Ralphs helped shape their musical direction, so without a collaborator in hand, Hunter was left without a center. It isn't surprising that the record seems a little uneven, both in terms of songwriting and sound, but it's hardly without merit. "Roll Away the Stone," a leftover from Mott, is first-rate; "Crash Street Kidds" rocks viciously; "The Golden Age of Rock & Roll" is a pleasant spin on Bowie-esque nostalgia (think "Drive-In Saturday"); and Overend Pete Watts follows through on that theme with "Born Late '58," a perfectly credible rocker. This all makes The Hoople an entertaining listen, even if it doesn't compare to Mott's earlier masterpieces. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
All the Young Dudes actually brought Mott the Hoople success, but you wouldn't know that from its sequel, Mott. Ian Hunter's songs are a set of road tales fraught with exhaustion, disillusionment, and dashed dreams, all told with a wry sense of humor so evident on Mott's earlier work. This is no ordinary road album where a band whines about the perils of traveling -- it's more of a wry commentary on rock & roll itself, which, as Hunter notes, is a "loser's game." Mott doesn't sound that way, though -- it's as winning and infectious as rock & roll gets. Even with the undercurrents of ironic despair and restrained hostility, this is a fun record (partially because of that despair and hostility, of course). This sounds better, looser, than All the Young Dudes, as the band jives through "All the Way from Memphis" and "Honaloochie Boogie," beats the living hell outta "Violence," swaggers on "Whizz Kid," and simply drives it home on "Drivin' Sister." Apart from the New York Dolls (who, after all, were in a league of their own), glam never sounds as rock as it does here. To top it all off, Hunter writes the best lament for rock ever with "Ballad of Mott the Hoople," a song that conveys just how heartbreaking rock & roll is for the average band. If that wasn't enough, he trumps that song with the closer "I Wish I Was Your Mother," a peerless breakup song that still surprises, even after it's familiar. It's a graceful, unexpected way to close a record that stands as one of the best of its era. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Just at the moment Mott the Hoople were calling it a day, David Bowie swooped in and convinced them to stick around. Bowie spearheaded an image makeover, urging them to glam themselves up. He gave them a surefire hit with "All the Young Dudes," had them cover his idol's "Sweet Jane," and produced All the Young Dudes, the album that was designed to make them stars. Lo and behold, it did, which is as much a testament to Bowie's popularity as it is to his studio skill. Not to discount his assistance, since his production results in one of the most satisfying glam records and the title track is one of the all-time great rock songs, but the album wouldn't have worked if Mott hadn't already found its voice on Brain Capers. True, Dudes isn't nearly as wild as its predecessor, but the band's swagger is unmistakable underneath the flair and Ian Hunter remains on a songwriting roll, with "Momma's Little Jewel," "Sucker," and "One of the Boys" standing among his best. Take a close look at the credits, though -- these were all co-written by his bandmates, and the other highlight, "Ready for Love/After Lights," is penned entirely by Mick Ralphs, who would later revive the first section with Bad Company. The entire band was on a roll here, turning out great performances and writing with vigor. They may not be as sexy as either Bowie or Bolan, but they make up for it with knowing humor, huge riffs, and terrific tunes, dressed up with style by Ziggy himself. No wonder it's not just a great Mott record -- it's one of the defining glam platters. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
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. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
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. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Goaded on by madman producer Guy Stevens, Mott attempted to outdo the Rolling Stones in the excess-equals-success contest with the recording of Mad Shadows. Chock full of heavy-duty Mott rockers, such as "Walkin' With a Mountain," "Thunderbuck Ram" and "No Wheels To Ride," Mad Shadows is a perfect study in rock & roll mayhem at the start of the seventies. Even Mick Jagger found himself singing along on the final moments of "Walkin' With a Mountain." A powerful document. ~ James Chrispell, All Music Guide
