1973 Wizzard: See My Baby Jive

In terms of image, Roy Wood and Wizzard were as glam as Danny La Rue in panto, but their sound was a curious mix of 50's rock & roll/doo wop and overcooked Beach Boys harmonies that plastered a six foot thick wall of sound homage to Phil Spector's sixties production work. If you're going to ape anyone then you may as well ape the best, but whereas Spector's finest were akin to dressing a bare Christmas trees with lights and tinsel to make something basic all spangly, Wood tended to take an already decorated tree and pile on more and more lights and baubles until the thing buckled under the strain of it's own weight.*

Wood is no slouch when it comes to songwriting and the underlying tune (pleasantly reminiscent of mid seventies ABBA) already had more key changes and shifts of direction than Spector's magnum opus 'River Deep, Mountain High' and didn't need a lot of tarting up. But while the latter's production added drama and gravitas enough to make you think you were listening to the work of the gods, Wood's endless crush of instruments and backing vocals only serves to wrap the tune in a weighted sack that he then chucks in the canal.

Every available track, every millimetre of empty space is filled with something/anything until the whole churns impenetrably with the groan of an overloaded washing machine, sluggish with it's own weight and fit to blow a fuse. It's all way, way too much because there's no way in to the song, no point of entry where the listener can hang on to a beat or rhythm and follow it to the end. By way of example, there's a saxophone solo at the bridge, only it doesn't sound like a solo at all - it only gains prominence over the deluge of sound because Wood's voice falls silent for a few moments. And even then it feels like it only falls silent through sheer inertia at having to battle through the morass of sound to make itself heard. To listen to 'See My Baby Jive' is the aural equivalent of typingsentencesandparagraphswithnospacesbetweenthewordsandnopunctuation, like standing on the pavement outside a house party that you weren't invited to. Surely pop singles aren't meant to be this hard going?


* And in that respect the earlier Christmas metaphors are good ones - Wizzard may be most famous for the hardy perennial 'I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday', but in truth most of their output had an upbeat, Chrismassy vibe with a percussive wash of bells and horns. 'See My Baby Jive' is a classic example - you could re-record it with some snow and Santa lyrics and you'd be hard pressed to tell the two apart.