Not ornate, stately, or even faintly progressive by Procol Harum
standards, Liquorice John Death's Ain't Nothin' to Get Excited About
brings Whiskey Train – the most volcanic rock cut that PH did outside
Simple Sister – into focus as an Elvis cop plated with Brit heaviness and
played by guys who plainly didn't always want to be restricted to In Held 'Twas
in I.
John Death, then, was a garage-pure R&R band given a pass in Abbey Road to
loosen up for Procol's 1970 album Home. Having been known as the
Paramounts prior to Harum stuffiness, John Death allowed Gary Brooker to slum as
a rich man's Little Richard. Drummer BJ Wilson, by the evidence, did boogies and
shuffles better than most Texans. And Robin Trower played a Les Paul – which
still makes him Trower, only slightly thicker sounding, like a proto-metal BB
King. Eighteen months later, the guitarist split to make more money in America,
as a solo act playing barbiturate-flavored stuff far more like this than like
A Salty Dog.
In any case, Kansas City and Matchbox show the band could do
reverence and roots things louder than the Beatles and heavier than the Stones
when they wanted to, if not as recklessly as the Who. Plus, Brand New
Cadillac coined Clash-rock about eight years before there was a Joe
Strummer.
The album cover was painted by a mentally ill fellow: Dave Mundy, furloughed
from the nut hatch on afternoons by his good friends in the band. He gave them
the odd name because it was more "rock and roll" than
the Paramounts, then subsequently killed himself, and the boys wrote a song
in his memory: For Liquorice John, which they
put on Grand Hotel. Now there's a sad but still quietly affirming story.