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S.F. SORROW by The Pretty Things
by Johnny Black
SF Sorrow is now recognised as the first rock opera but, as guitarist Dick Taylor remembers, when recording began, that wasn’t the plan. “We’d recorded two tracks, Bracelets of Fingers and I See You, before the concept came up.”
From the start though, it had been about experimentation. “I’d bought a bagpipe chanter in a junkshop which turned out to be in the right key for the tooty bits in Bracelets Of Fingers,” notes Taylor.
Once the rock opera concept emerged, vocalist Phil May supplied a plot based on a short story he’d written about World War 2, featuring a central character who was an amalgam of May himself and his foster father, Charlie.
The songs follow this composite, SF Sorrow, from birth to death, with love, work, war and burning airship disasters in between, and the story-telling element lent itself naturally to the inclusion of unusual sounds to represent events in Sorrow’s life. “Our basic principle,” says Taylor, “was that if it made a noise we would bring it to the studio, and find a way to incorporate it into a track.” The pegs and strings from an old upright piano, for example, were scavenged to create a home-made zither which provided eerie twanging sounds on Death.
The rock opera idea was so new that EMI found it difficult to market, but the press recognised it as a breakthrough. A few months later, though, The Who stole much of the Pretties’ thunder when they unveiled their very own rock opera, Tommy.
(Source : by Johnny Black, first appeared in the book Albums by Backbeat Books, 2007)
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THE STORY OF S.F.SORROW – by Johnny Black
"We would be locked in Abbey Road, sometimes for 36 hours at a stretch," remembers Pretty Things' vocalist Phil May. "You couldn't get out because there'd be 100 girls outside baying for The Beatles."
The eighteen months during which The Pretty Things recorded their fourth album, S.F.Sorrow, was arguably Abbey Road's creative zenith. While The Beatles beavered away at Sgt Pepper, Pink Floyd were cobbling together their psychedelic debut, The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn and, just along the corridor, The Pretties were devising the world's first rock opera.
May well remembers the intense white heat of creative competition that spurred his band on to new heights of invention. "Oh, yes. We used to sit in the kitchen with John Lennon and throw bits of food at the wall. They gave us this dodgy space food on trays that you had to heat up in a microwave. Maybe it was halibut in white sauce but you were never quite sure, so throwing it at the wall to see if it stuck seemed the best thing to do."
"There really was no sense of competition," confirms guitarist Dick Taylor. "Lennon was always very supportive and I seem to remember we borrowed Ringo's snare drum at one point. We all shared an interest in experimenting with sound and it wasn't about rivalry."
As Taylor remembers it, when The Pretty Things started recording the album, no thought of rock opera had entered their heads. "We'd recorded two tracks, Bracelets of Fingers and I See You, before the idea of having a concept came up."
Once it was raised though, Phil May was able to supply the storyline. "I had always written short stories, and I would edit them down to make songs," he explains. "I'd done one about the war and the Hindenberg airship crash which I thought we could maybe use as the theme for a whole album."
A character from the story, Sergeant Sorrow, was reduced to Private for the album. "He had a lot of me in him," says May, "and a lot of my foster father, Charlie, who lost an eye while he was working for BOCM. That's where the factories of misery on the album came from."
From the very start though, the album had been about experimentation. "I'd bought a bagpipe chanter in a junkshop which turned out to be in exactly the right key for the tooty bits in Bracelets Of Fingers," remembers Taylor.
When Taylor's father threw out an old upright piano, the pegs and strings were scavenged to create a home-made zither which provided the eerie twanging sounds on Death. "Our basic principle was that if it made a noise, we would bring it into the studio, and our producer Norman Smith would find a way to incorporate it into a track."
Phil May recalls, "S.F. Sorrow was sort of acid driven. We also smoked a lot of really interesting dope. The stuff coming to England then was fascinating. Every week there was Nepalese, Temple Bliss, South Africa Gold, and lots of different stuff coming through."
On release in December 1968, EMI had no idea how to promote the album. May still remembers "endless meetings with them trying to explain what we were doing, but the idea of a concept album, a rock opera, was just too new. It's indicative of how little they understood it that I was worried they might refuse to release Bracelets Of Fingers because it was so explicitly a song about wanking, but they didn't. They just didn't realise, and I wasn't going to tell them."
Although it baffled EMI, the press hailed it as a breakthrough. Record Mirror perceived S.F.Sorrow as "an excellent example of a group that's grown up and matured in pop"; NME stated that the band had "improved out of all recognition" and Beat Instrumental declared it to be "exceptionally good … something new in pop music."
Lacking record company support, sales were pitiful but at least the Pretties had the comfort of knowing that their peers rated it. Indeed, Pete Townshend rated it so highly that at a Track Records party soon after it was released, he played it again and again. Three months later, The Who released Pinball Wizard, a track whose opening sequence sounded uncannily like Old Man Going from S.F.Sorrow. Only two more months went by before Townshend unveiled his very own rock opera - Tommy.
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by Johnny Black
SF Sorrow is now recognised as the first rock opera but, as guitarist Dick Taylor remembers, when recording began, that wasn’t the plan. “We’d recorded two tracks, Bracelets of Fingers and I See You, before the concept came up.”
From the start though, it had been about experimentation. “I’d bought a bagpipe chanter in a junkshop which turned out to be in the right key for the tooty bits in Bracelets Of Fingers,” notes Taylor.
Once the rock opera concept emerged, vocalist Phil May supplied a plot based on a short story he’d written about World War 2, featuring a central character who was an amalgam of May himself and his foster father, Charlie.
The songs follow this composite, SF Sorrow, from birth to death, with love, work, war and burning airship disasters in between, and the story-telling element lent itself naturally to the inclusion of unusual sounds to represent events in Sorrow’s life. “Our basic principle,” says Taylor, “was that if it made a noise we would bring it to the studio, and find a way to incorporate it into a track.” The pegs and strings from an old upright piano, for example, were scavenged to create a home-made zither which provided eerie twanging sounds on Death.
The rock opera idea was so new that EMI found it difficult to market, but the press recognised it as a breakthrough. A few months later, though, The Who stole much of the Pretties’ thunder when they unveiled their very own rock opera, Tommy.
(Source : by Johnny Black, first appeared in the book Albums by Backbeat Books, 2007)
------------------------------------------------
THE STORY OF S.F.SORROW – by Johnny Black
"We would be locked in Abbey Road, sometimes for 36 hours at a stretch," remembers Pretty Things' vocalist Phil May. "You couldn't get out because there'd be 100 girls outside baying for The Beatles."
The eighteen months during which The Pretty Things recorded their fourth album, S.F.Sorrow, was arguably Abbey Road's creative zenith. While The Beatles beavered away at Sgt Pepper, Pink Floyd were cobbling together their psychedelic debut, The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn and, just along the corridor, The Pretties were devising the world's first rock opera.
May well remembers the intense white heat of creative competition that spurred his band on to new heights of invention. "Oh, yes. We used to sit in the kitchen with John Lennon and throw bits of food at the wall. They gave us this dodgy space food on trays that you had to heat up in a microwave. Maybe it was halibut in white sauce but you were never quite sure, so throwing it at the wall to see if it stuck seemed the best thing to do."
"There really was no sense of competition," confirms guitarist Dick Taylor. "Lennon was always very supportive and I seem to remember we borrowed Ringo's snare drum at one point. We all shared an interest in experimenting with sound and it wasn't about rivalry."
As Taylor remembers it, when The Pretty Things started recording the album, no thought of rock opera had entered their heads. "We'd recorded two tracks, Bracelets of Fingers and I See You, before the idea of having a concept came up."
Once it was raised though, Phil May was able to supply the storyline. "I had always written short stories, and I would edit them down to make songs," he explains. "I'd done one about the war and the Hindenberg airship crash which I thought we could maybe use as the theme for a whole album."
A character from the story, Sergeant Sorrow, was reduced to Private for the album. "He had a lot of me in him," says May, "and a lot of my foster father, Charlie, who lost an eye while he was working for BOCM. That's where the factories of misery on the album came from."
From the very start though, the album had been about experimentation. "I'd bought a bagpipe chanter in a junkshop which turned out to be in exactly the right key for the tooty bits in Bracelets Of Fingers," remembers Taylor.
When Taylor's father threw out an old upright piano, the pegs and strings were scavenged to create a home-made zither which provided the eerie twanging sounds on Death. "Our basic principle was that if it made a noise, we would bring it into the studio, and our producer Norman Smith would find a way to incorporate it into a track."
Phil May recalls, "S.F. Sorrow was sort of acid driven. We also smoked a lot of really interesting dope. The stuff coming to England then was fascinating. Every week there was Nepalese, Temple Bliss, South Africa Gold, and lots of different stuff coming through."
On release in December 1968, EMI had no idea how to promote the album. May still remembers "endless meetings with them trying to explain what we were doing, but the idea of a concept album, a rock opera, was just too new. It's indicative of how little they understood it that I was worried they might refuse to release Bracelets Of Fingers because it was so explicitly a song about wanking, but they didn't. They just didn't realise, and I wasn't going to tell them."
Although it baffled EMI, the press hailed it as a breakthrough. Record Mirror perceived S.F.Sorrow as "an excellent example of a group that's grown up and matured in pop"; NME stated that the band had "improved out of all recognition" and Beat Instrumental declared it to be "exceptionally good … something new in pop music."
Lacking record company support, sales were pitiful but at least the Pretties had the comfort of knowing that their peers rated it. Indeed, Pete Townshend rated it so highly that at a Track Records party soon after it was released, he played it again and again. Three months later, The Who released Pinball Wizard, a track whose opening sequence sounded uncannily like Old Man Going from S.F.Sorrow. Only two more months went by before Townshend unveiled his very own rock opera - Tommy.