This came out in 2004 – or at least that’s when I got it. Here’s what I said about it back then (with some minor editing):
Almost nobody remembers a truly great party very clearly. That’s as good a reason as any for why Faces are one of the most criminally overlooked and underrated bands of the early ’70s. In fact, it’s about the only one I can think of.
After all, you certainly can’t accuse Faces of being, um, faceless. Like Cream, they were a classic supergroup with an impeccable pedigree. Singer Rod Stewart and guitarist Ron Wood were already rising stars in Jeff Beck’s band when they jumped ship in 1969 to merge with the remnants of Small Faces — bassist and tunesmith Ronnie Lane, keyboard player Ian McLagan and drummer Kenney Jones — who were rudderless and foundering after the desertion of frontman Steve Marriott. Together, they conjured up a raucously scrappy, effortlessly gorgeous sound out of the Smalls’ bluesy power, the laddish Stewart’s raspy romanticism and Woody’s Chuck Berry guitar chops. They had half a dozen solid albums, including the chart-climbing A Nod Is As Good As A Wink … To A Blind Horse, and one timeless single in Stay With Me and a few also-rans like Ooh La La and Cindy Incidentally. And their influence can be heard in everything from the rootsy grandeur of The Black Crowes to the punky slackerism of The Replacements.
Ultimately, though, as the tremendous and essential four-disc retrospective Five Guys Walk Into A Bar … explains, Faces were too busy having fun to worry about securing a legacy. These guys weren’t a thinking man’s band; they were a drinking man’s band. Rehearsals and albums were completed between trips down the pub. Tours were one endless party that began in the Lear jet, moved to the limo and continued during the show. I mean that literally — the band’s stage set included a fully functioning, professionally staffed bar so the boys always had fresh bevvys and wouldn’t wander too far during the drum solo. Viewed through the straitlaces of our shame-and-blame culture — where rehab is a career move — Faces’ happy-go-lucky hedonism is quaintly refreshing.
Wisely and thankfully, that lighthearted and loosey-goosey attitude is reflected in this 67-track set, which is divided almost equally between classic fare and magnificent unissued tracks. Lovingly shepherded by McLagan and casually sequenced out of chronological order, Five Guys Walk Into A Bar … unfolds with all the shambling charm of its shaggy dog-story title. Hits like Stay With Me and Ooh La La rub shoulders with obscurities like Dishevelment Blues. Album cuts hang out next to B-sides. Unvarnished BBC recordings mingle with polished studio versions. Instrumentals get as much space as catchy choruses. Tapes of the band’s earliest rehearsals are included — along with highlights from their final sessions. And there are almost as many covers as originals, from revamped pop hits like Jealous Guy and Maybe I’m Amazed to blues and soul standards like Love In Vain and Everybody Needs Somebody To Love. Sure, it’s a messy mish-mash of music, but that’s no shock coming from a group who were the world’s ultimate bar band in every sense of the word.
What is pleasantly shocking, though, is how compelling and powerful most of this material is. Faces’ motto may have been ‘All for one, one for all and one more round for all of us,’ but there’s no denying that whether they were drunk as skunks or sober as judges, these lads could play like gods.
Gritty, slashing blues-rockers like Too Bad, Pool Hall Richard and You’re So Rude are classic-rock hits that never were, their sawtooth riffs anticipating Wood’s subsequent work with The Stones. Stewart’s last-call ballads and soul covers are a welcome reminder of the potent days before he became a jaded self-parody. And melancholic numbers like Debris and Last Orders Please — showcases for the band’s secret weapon Lane, who died in 1997 after a long battle with MS — cast a deserving spotlight on a great talent who was taken far too early.
After all that, nobody should have trouble recalling these Faces.
