a Of the founding triplicate of soul, I've always liked Ray's voice the least, probably because when I was first aware of him he was singing country standards and getting to number one with them and some strings. I'm not sure of the vintage of this, but the piano and especially the horns make it sound like the Fifties
b didn't mind this when it came out – better than that prog drivel that was stinking up the neighbourhood. But I can't really hack it now. The song is utter pants for a start, lyrics carved on the desk by a fifth-form speed freak. There may have been something in the air, as Mr Sneelock suggests, but in this case it was one of Mr Newman's beer farts. Call to arms? more like a call to go down the pub, have a few smokes after, yeah, and talk about The Man. The piano, ahem, 'breakdown' is fucking horrible, a waste of a great instrument. And those nods to Beatles harmonies? This is an absolute piece of shit produced by a trio of social misfits and losers and I can't believe anyone with a pretension to musical taste is actually genuflecting before it. Wazzocks.