"One Of The Great Bands That Nobody's Ever Heard"
Patto
Friday, May 10, 2013
Admittedly, I missed the music of Patto entirely when the group was still alive and active. Although they'd released three albums between the years of 1971 and 1973, I don't ever recall hearing them played on the radio, reading much about them, or seeing their name on concert bills. While I do recall (incredibly enough) stumbling across those LP's in my favorite record, I was told they were a progressive rock act and never a great fan of the genre, I chose to ignore them. I did enjoy aspects of jazz/rock fusion however, so when I eventually got around to checking out Patto, I found that the group's unique sound awkwardly fell somewhere between the two. With my newfound curiosity, I began to absorb their music determined to unlock its mysteries. Impressed with their stellar musicianship, I nevertheless felt stymied by what I believed were compositional shortcomings, yet there was always something strangely compelling about Patto's music that kept me coming back for more until I eventually developed a deep affinity for them. Today after years of appreciation, I believe I may have finally uncovered the key to why I initially had such difficulty accepting them, and perhaps the reasons why others may have also.
In brief, Patto were a highly talented, but short-lived blues rock quartet from the early 70's with progressive and jazz tendencies. They possessed a strong lead singer, a very solid and creative bass player, an extraordinary drummer and one monster of a lead guitarist. Blessed with a collective abundance of chops and attitude during a period when both progressive rock and jazz fusion were growing in popularity, you'd have thought that Patto stood a formidable chance at popular acceptance, much like their contemporaries Yes and King Crimson. But it was not to be. While the band was highly regarded within the British rock scene, revered by fellow musicians and appreciated as a powerful live act, they failed to break here on American shores despite having toured to great reviews with Joe Cocker, post-Mad Dogs & Englishmen. Yet there may be a few reasons as to why that was the case.
Although you'd certainly never mistake Patto for a light-weight pop band, neither did they comfortably fit into any of the above-mentioned heavier sub-genres either. Difficult to pigeonhole, Patto defied convention and categorization and that's a good thing, right? Well in this case, wrong. You see, as a rule, most people like to know what to expect. They prefer when things are spelled out for them, even when it comes to a rock band. Regardless of how enlightened audiences may perceive themselves to be, they can often remain stubbornly close-minded, especially if that band is an opening act as were Patto in their one and only American tour. As it was, Patto unfortunately came to these shores very late in their game, a continent that was traditionally essential in making or breaking bands worldwide. American audiences at the time knew little or nothing of the group during their cross-country campaign and then they were never exposed to them again. The band dissolved shortly after their one and only trek through the States, and it was a relatively short journey at that. So that's one thing that potentially worked against the band. Furthermore, because the band's record label (Vertigo) held the reputation as a bastion of progressive acts, Patto were presented as such. And what do most prog bands have in common beyond copious times changes, flashy clothes and album covers designed by Roger Dean? The answer my friend is mellotrons. While Patto's second LP ('Hold Your Fire') did feature what is perhaps the worst record jacket ever drawn by said artist, mellotrons and ruffled blouses with puffy sleeves were nowhere to be heard or found within their ranks. If you'll recall, I mentioned that Patto's music was very hard to categorize. They were more so a stellar rock band with progressive leanings than anything easily tagged with an impressively exotic nomenclature. Wisely or unwisely, Patto simply didn't propagate all the prog cliches of the day, and that is a good thing despite it confusing those who were new to their music.
And lastly is this nugget which is strictly a personal opinion. Although Patto were an exceptional live act, the other side to a successful career in the music industry necessitates record sales to complete the equation, and there perhaps is the rub. You may disagree with me completely on this, but I believe that the band's inability to create waves with the American record buying public might simply have been that the despite the times, despite their talent and despite their chops, despite the confusion, Patto's songwriting just didn't follow the rules of convention. Making memorable music can be difficult, you know? Those who excel at it make it all seem so easy. But usually there are key ingredients that are necessary to create material that can really resonate with listeners. What I'm talking here about are those 'wow!' moments that produce goosebumps on your forearms or the hair on the back of your neck to stand up when you hear them. The often undefinable and elusive elements that turn ordinary songs into special songs. In popular music it's usually a major key change or a memorable bridge that leads us back into the verse from the chorus. Other times it's a complex harmony structure. And then of course there's that one ever essential ingredient --- hooks, hooks, hooks. Patto's music unfortunately held few of these. But more so, I think maybe it's because their songs never really built to that stage were they break free and open up like rays of sun streaming through the clouds above. You see, there's another sort of moment, particularly in prog and jazz where the song form opens wide to rise up and rides on the jet stream. I can't really explain the process, but let's just say that Patto often failed to reach it. But they're indefinable, remember? And although there's nothing in the songwriter's guidebook that says you have to include the above listed elements, they are nevertheless helpful. So I suppose that you can add unorthodox and refreshingly noncompliant to the description of Patto as well. And that, I believe, is perhaps the primary reason why Patto never earned the same stature as their peers. Their extraordinary musicianship notwithstanding, the band simply never penned a powerhouse song like 'Roundabout,' 'Long Distance Runaround,' or 'Court Of The Crimson King,' all of which have gone on to become timeless classics.* That's not to imply that Patto's songs weren't good. Not by any means! It's just that they weren't momentous. There is one exception however, the band's 14 minute masterpiece, 'Hanging Rope' of which we'll cover in detail later. But you know, the more you listen to Patto, the more you come to appreciate the uniqueness of their approach. And to their credit, lyrically they never 'talked to the wind of Moonchild fairies and Starship Troopers' and if nothing else, you've gotta admire them for that. But do check out 'Hold Your Fire.' It's hilarious and reveals quite a bit about how the band differed from the peers.
*Addressing this issue, the band did record a fourth LP ('Monkey's Bum') which ironically dispensed with the progressive leanings and resulted in more melodic, accessible material, but the group broke up before it was completed and the record was never released officially. Inferior quality bootlegs are available however, taken from sub-standard sources
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| Mike Patto, Ollie Halsall, Clive Griffiths and John Halsey |
Who Is/Was Patto
Patto were bassist Clive Griffiths, drummer John Halsey, guitarist/vibraphonist/pianist Peter 'Ollie' Halsall and the group's namesake, vocalist Mike Patto. Born from the ashes of Timebox, a soul/pop/mor conglomeration who dabbled briefly in psychedelia to produce the glorious but under-appreciated, 'Gone Is The Sad Man,' Patto signed with the prestigious Vertigo Records in 1970, delivering only three LP's for the label. Their charismatic frontman, Mike Patto possessed a throaty, emotive voice appropriate for the material, but tragically his career was halted prematurely when he was diagnosed with throat cancer leukemia,** a cancer of the blood cells which led to his death in 1979. Clive Griffiths meanwhile contributed his numerable skills on bass with various nameless bands after the demise of Patto until a road accident permanently sidelined him, leaving him an invalid. On a brighter note, drummer John Halsey was an underrated stickman of great imagination and form. A powerhouse really, although I may be somewhat bias. Ironically, Halsey is today perhaps best known as the rather inept drummer for the Rutles, the lumbering Barry Wom, although he's additionally worked with Alexis Korner, GRIMMS, Joan
Armatrading, Lou Reed and many others after the Patto's breakup. Finally, Ollie Halsall was a highly gifted guitarist who might have easily gone on to great acclaim if only he hadn't been so reluctant to step into the spotlight. Unassuming and self-effacing, Halsall felt increasingly uncomfortable with the flattering accolades that his guitar playing received in the wake of Patto's formation. Nevertheless he's been said to have been one of the "first to produce fluid, lightning 'hammer-on' runs rather than the traditional staccato plectrum strokes of conventional jazz players; at once the most creative, sensitive, tasteful and melodic player to ever trod the planet."*** Not only that, Halsall was additionally adept at piano, organ and vibes, all of which contributed delightful and unexpected textures to the sonic allure of Patto's collective sound, making them "one of the great bands that nobody's ever heard." After joining Kevin Ayers with whom he played for many years, Halsall sadly succumbed to heroin addiction which contributed to his own death in 1992. The tragic irony of it is that in his desire to help a fellow musician who was already addicted, Halsall volunteered to chaperone his friend only to fall into the clutches of dependency himself. It's a very sad ending for a musician who could've been so much more.
**Corrected information, clarified by Patto's brother, Phil McCarthy in the comments section: 05/15/13
***From the Ollie Halsall Archive site at www.olliehalsall.co.uk
Clockwise from top left:
Mike Patto, John Halsey, Clive Griffiths and Ollie Halsall
The Music Of Patto
Despite considerable input from each member of Patto, it's generally considered that the superlative talents of Ollie Halsall made the modest guitarist the true star of the show. For all intents and purposes, Halsall really should be ranked among the best electric guitarists of his generation. But his distaste for attention and personal praise kept the humble musician from either welcoming or embracing the limelight. Whether it was insecurity, low self-esteem, a disbelief in his own talents, or a genuine humility that prevented him is unknown to me. But here's a case in point. After the attention that Halsall's contributions to Patto's first two recordings drew praise and admiration from both the public and his peers, the guitarist consciously chose not to place emphasis on his guitar work on the groups follow-up LP, 'Roll 'Em, Smoke 'Em, Put Another Line Out,' opting instead to concentrate on keyboards, much to the dismay of his band mates and their fans.
On the whole, Mike Patto's and Clive Griffiths' contributions to the group were consistently solid throughout; a perfect match really. Meanwhile, drummer John Halsey's talents were underutilized if you were to ask me, but when he was given the chance, his playing truly soared. Witness 'San Antone,' 'Money Bag,' or 'Hanging Rope' as a few prime examples of his propulsive talents. When it comes to Ollie Halsall on the other hand, one need not look very far. His left-handed imprint can be heard on nearly every track. But if you must start somewhere, try 'Air Raid Shelter,' 'Give It All Away,' 'Tell Me Where You've Been,' or 'See You At The Dance Tonight.' Each showcases a unique flare, and collectively they demonstrate a remarkable display of musicianship. And then there's the aforementioned quarter hour long tour-de-force, 'Hanging Rope.' It's an unfinished track that remarkably sat undiscovered until the present-day era of reissues and the exhaustive appetite for previously unreleased tracks. Miraculously this artifact survived, thank God. 'Hanging Rope' is what all bonus tracks should be --- rare, restored and revelatory. And as it relates directly to Patto, this song (and their performance on it) potentially ranks the bands moment of crowning glory. A must hear.
In sizing up their overall sound, Patto's most inspired jazz fusion moments at times almost remind me of Tony Williams Lifetime with John McLaughlin. But in Halsall's playing you'll detect subtle parallels with Larry Coryell in his early fusion work, Allan Holdsworth (whom Halsall briefly replaced in the group, Tempest after Holdsworth's departure), and even a touch of Eddie Van Halen and Pat Metheny in the latter guitarists most adventurous performances. Yet in the band's more rock oriented instances, they bear somewhat of a resemblance to Family, another underrated British outfit slogging away during that same period in time. Not at all shabby points of comparison, wouldn't you say? So if you're not familiar with Patto, then give them a listen. And if you're among those who have already been there and done that, then I simply applaud your good taste. Either way, below you'll find some outstanding pieces of Patto.
1) Hold Your Fire
2) The Man
3) San Antone
4) Government Man
5) Money Bag
6) Tell Me Where You've Been
7) See You At The Dance Tonight
8) Bad News*
9) Singing The Blues On Reds
1) Air Raid Shelter
2) Magic Door
3) Give It All Away
4) Beat The Drum*
5) Flat Footed Woman
6) Hanging Rope*
7) You, You Point Your Finger
8) I Got Rhythm
Source material for 'Pieces Of Patto, Vols.1&2' comes from the following:
Patto (1970)
Hold Your Fire (1971)
Roll 'Em, Smoke 'Em, Put Another Line Out (1972)
*Previously undiscovered tracks first released on
Sense Of The Absurd (1995)
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