This decidedly English band had the distinction of not only performing at the very first Glastonbury Festival, but also giving birth to pop supremos the Korgis, after founding members James Warren and Andy Davis departed for "newer waved" pastures. Stackridge and its members' long and convoluted history is told in typically elliptical Angel Air fashion in the CD booklet, if only as much attention had been paid to the track listing. Sex and Flags is not quite a new album, nor a proper reissue either. Bundling together tracks from the re-formed Stackridge's 1999 album, Something for the Weekend, the entirety of their next incarnation's 2003 Lemon EP, and freshly recorded numbers, the sleeve and booklet neglect to note the source of any of the tracks. Never mind, it's all Stackridge in its own fashion, and it's all good. No longer quite as eccentric as they are old, the members have mellowed with age, although their love of pastoral stylings, Beatles' chord progressions, and a very English sound, is as passionate as ever. It all makes for an incredibly eclectic mixture of music, ranging from the epic "Beating a Path," into the bright lights of the music hall-esque "Grooving Along the Highway on a Monday Morning Once," then "Sliding Down the Razorblade of Love" into blues, and up through the bouncy "Wonderful Day." It's a splendidly entertaining set, with the lineups changes barely noticeable. Regardless of repeated lineup permutations, this is still Stackridge in all its glory. ~ Jo-Ann Greene, All Music Guide
When a long-defunct band you loved in your youth opts to give fame and fortune one last shot 20 years later, though your heart leaps at the prospect, your brain urges caution. Most listeners have sat through middle-aged reunion albums with their spirits steadily sinking, as turgid laments for the environment give way to bitter attacks on faithless ex-wives and ex-bandmembers, and current bandmembers relentlessly demonstrate their familiarity with the very latest synthesizers. But 21 years after what everyone assumed to be their final album, Mr. Mick, Stackridge reconvened -- several key members light, as usual -- and delivered one of their finest albums. This time the band was under the direction of James Warren, who left in 1973 after The Man in the Bowler Hat to subsequently enjoy considerably greater commercial success as a member of the Korgis (briefly alongside his old Stackridge oppo Andy Davis). And certainly there's a degree of Korgis-style polish about many of the songs included here, while another key influence is openly acknowledged in the anthemic "Something About the Beatles." Warren was always the band's premier melodist, however, and though Something for the Weekend would have certainly benefited from the presence of key members Davis and Mutter Slater, it boasts a consistency that was all too lacking in the band's last two (Warren-free) albums. Any fears that a commitment to polished soft rock might dilute the band's more endearingly eccentric tendencies, though, are dispelled by the splendidly surreal "Wildebeeste" and the irresistible '30s-style "Sliding Down the Razorblade of Love," not to mention the equally delightful "Grooving Along on the Highway on a Monday Morning Once" -- the kind of instantly memorable melody that Paul McCartney would have killed for in 1997. A further plus point comes in the return of Mike Evans, whose superb fiddling and occasional deadpan vocals were always a key ingredient of the classic 1970-1973 lineup. Newcomer John Miller also proved a valuable addition, both as a multi-instrumentalist and co-composer. All told, you're left feeling that this is the album with which Stackridge should have capitalized on the momentum generated by George Martin's lavish production of The Man in the Bowler Hat. Instead, this most affably English of groups embarked on two decades of squabbling and hoping the fans liked their new direction. And guess what? Just a few years after this album was released, they fell out all over again. In the immortal words of Ian Dury, what a waste. ~ Christopher Evans, All Music Guide
It comes as no surprise to discover that Stackridge were a favorite of BBC DJ John Peel. Irreverent and light-hearted, but capable of unleashing some cripplingly powerful emotions, the band made no less than 13 session appearances for the BBC with Peel overseeing seven of them. Not bad for a band that was all but written off by the BBC audition panel that scrutinized their first-ever session, for Stuart Henry in June 1971. Granting Stackridge a mere borderline pass, the panel declared them an "amateur group with limited musical knowledge." They were "just about adequate." This collection initially appears to offer little of the Stackridge archive, a stingy six songs drawn from two sessions in October 1971 ("Three Legged Table" and "Slark," recorded for Peel) and March 1973 -- a four-song escapade for the Bob Harris show. Ah, but what treasures they are -- especially the 1971 set, which first serves up one of Stackridge's most delightful compositions, and then follows through with one of their most dramatic. "Slark" consumes 14 minutes of your time, and the band has rarely sounded better. The 1973 session, sad to say, is not among the band's better outings -- indeed, one is surprised that it was even considered for release, when compared with the 1971-1972 material. But "The Lyder Loo" is quintessential Stackridge regardless, and "God Speed the Plough" has always been a band favorite, and fans will not want to miss this release regardless. "Slark" will see to that. ~ Dave Thompson, All Music Guide
Produced by George Martin, The Man in the Bowler Hat continues Stackridge's brand of satiric rock marbled with elements of folk and to some extent, even country. The lyrics are just as witty as in their first two releases, and the poetry glistens with a jovial Englishness that became the band's most identifiable trademark. With Martin's help, though, the album became one of their better releases, as the music rises to the top before the words do, sounding fresher, livelier, and noticeably sharper than both their debut and 1972's Friendliness. Stackridge's best song, "Dangerous Bacon," was released as a single, and it's in this song as well as "The Galloping Gaucho" and "The Indifferent Hedgehog" in which their sound comes alive. The eccentric combination of Mutter Slater's flute and the playful airiness of Mike Evans' violin give the melodies a lightheartedness that is catchy and original. Andy Davis' keyboard work doesn't hide the warmth of the strings or the woodwinds, and the album as a whole sports a cheeriness which disappointingly began to subside on Stackridge's later album's, mainly because the novelty of their music was wearing off. The reissued version of The Man in the Bowler Hat contains three impressive bonus tracks, including "Do the Stanley" and "Let There Be Lids," which involves some rather exceptional fiddle playing. ~ Mike DeGagne, All Music Guide
Still riven by internal disputes that would even scupper the band's second coming 20 years later, Stackridge were at least boosted in 1976 by the return to the ranks of flutist and vocalist Mutter Slater and bassist Crun Walter -- though the talents of James Warren were still sorely missed. In fact it was Slater who dominated Mr. Mick, which took Stackridge away from the Zappa-ish tendencies of Extravaganza and back toward their Beatlesque roots. Unfortunately, 1976 was no time to be releasing a concept album, even one that had been chopped up and rendered meaningless by the record company, and Mr. Mick represented the point at which Stackridge finally succumbed to the allied forces of public indifference and punk. It's far from being their best album, but Mr. Mick still has considerable charm, once you get past the somewhat pointless cod-reggae version of the Beatles' "Hold Me Tight." This was ditched, however, when the band issued a revised edition of the album in 2000, complete with all the tracks that were excised first time around at the expense of Slater's story. Since several of these include long stretches of narration that quickly pall on repeated listening, this is one of those rare occasions when you feel a degree of sympathy for the record company. As for the story itself -- a "modern fairytale" about an old codger who visits a magic rubbish dump where all the discarded articles have a tale to tell -- as career advancement went, it was up there with Brian Wilson's Mount Vernon and Fairway. Nevertheless, "Fish in a Glass," "Steam Radio Song," and "The Slater's Waltz" all boast the kind of sumptuous pop melodies that first convinced George Martin to helm The Man in the Bowler Hat. ~ Christopher Evans, All Music Guide
The cracked window through which Stackridge gazed upon the pop scene of the mid-'70s offered one of the most idiosyncratic vistas enjoyed by any British band of the age, a blending of the softer rock moods that were then so thoroughly endemic, and a light orchestral gentility that would not truly find a commercial home for another two decades. Listening to Pinafore Days, in particular, one can see the infant High Llamas (to name but one) peeping out all over the place. Ten tracks chase Stackridge across an exquisite piece of prog-inflected pop. Occasionally -- the closing minutes of "The Last Plimsoll" -- the band's more adventurous ambitions get the better of its well-mannered moods; for the most part, however, Pinafore Days is a feast of lighthearted quirkiness, packed with little clips and clusters that bring to mind so many musical themes and schemes that one is no more surprised when "Spin Around the Room" transforms into a mock ragtime jam than when "The Galloping Gaucho" dances sideways across the music hall stage while a circus plays in the background. And then there's "Dangerous Bacon," a wonderfully buoyant pop stomp whose electric excitement is absolutely at odds with its frankly foreboding lyric. The sixth Stackridge album also, sadly, turned out to be the last, but whatever pressures and disappointments pushed the bandmembers over the edge are far from view on vinyl, allowing them the pleasure, at least, of bowing out with all their dignity intact. ~ Dave Thompson, All Music Guide
After the lavishly-produced The Man In The Bowler Hat, it seemed that Stackridge might have blown their best chance of a commercial breakthrough. Just to make sure they did so good and proper, however, they promptly embarked upon the first of a series of bitter internal disputes that meant any fans turning up to a gig did so wondering who'd be playing and who'd be sat at home nursing a grudge. Whichever way you look at it, though, Extravaganza was a pretty odd follow-up, and one that must have left their new label -- Elton John's Rocket Records -- seething with frustration. By now it must have been clear that expecting Stackridge to focus their energies on a single musical direction was an exercise in futility, and in any case totally contrary to the spirit of the band. But with Andy Davis now calling most of the shots, he and new members Rod Bowkett, Paul Karas and Keith Gemmell (who replaced Mutter Slater, James Warren and Mike Evans) set about cultivating a Zappa-ish tendency that, though it had been there from the very beginning, had never before dominated proceedings as it did here. Extravaganza contained no fewer than three (admittedly delightful) intricate jazz-rock instrumentals that recalled the heyday of Hot Rats. Hardly the thing to woo customers attracted by the more pop-friendly Bowler Hat. But of greater concern was the shortage of strong original songs. "The Volunteer" and "Happy In The Lord" (both sung by an uncredited Slater) are classic Stackridge -- warmly melodic and wryly humorous. But "No One's More Important Than The Earthworm" (written by ex-King Crimson member Gordon Haskell during a lightning-fast passage through the band's ranks), "Benjamin's Giant Onion", "Highbury Incident" and "Greasepaint Smiles" are pretty pedestrian fare. Small wonder, then, that for all its good points Extravaganza enjoys a reputation as Stackridge's most unloved -- and least frequently reissued - album ~ Christopher Evans, All Music Guide
Although The Man in the Bowler Hat is without question the most fully realized and lavishly produced (by George Martin) Stackridge album, most fans of the band would probably gravitate toward Friendliness as their favorite. Here can be found every quality that endeared the West Country five-piece to a loyal -- but never quite large enough -- following. There's Beatlesque melody, gently surreal humor, and considerable instrumental dexterity that ranged freely between the worlds of pop, folk, jazz, classical, and prog rock. The rollicking instrumental "Lummy Days" is a perfect scene-setter, with Mike Evans' violin and Mutter Slater's flute lyrical one moment and bucolic the next as the melody sweeps between hoedown, bolero, and Vaughan Williams -- all in less than four minutes. Next comes the weightless beauty of the title track, with James Warren's choirboy vocals multi-tracked to bewitching effect. That's followed, even more improbably, by the '30-style foppery of "Anyone for Tennis," and not long after by the Eastern-tinged "Syracuse the Elephant," at over eight minutes long and with Mellotron aplenty, clear evidence that Stackridge could have staked their share of the prog market if they could have kept a straight face long enough. But they couldn't, and to prove it, the next track is a piece of cod-reggae about a cow, called "Amazingly Agnes." In truth this and the heads-down, no-nonsense boogie "Keep on Clucking" (a whimsical diatribe against battery farming) always did sound like grudging concessions to commercialism, and decades later they still do. But the album finishes in triumph with the haunting "Teatime," arguably one of the most convincing fusions of folk, jazz, and classical music in the entire prog rock canon, with none of the ego-fuelled blowing that so discredited the genre. [The CD reissue contains three extra tracks, including the instrumental stage favorite "Purple Spaceships Over Yatton."] ~ Christopher Evans, All Music Guide