The Creation only scored a couple moderate hits during their approximately two-year existence, and they never managed to record a proper album. However, their output was of consistently high quality and their posthumous influence substantial; esteemed by discerning ’70s Mods including Mr. Paul Weller, they were reissued, frequently covered, and even lent the name to Alan McGee’s cornerstone indie-pop label. Now they’re getting the definitive treatment, with the meticulously researched Action Painting available March 17 on double vinyl, double CD + book combo, and FLAC through archival titans Numero Group.
The Creation are secured in the pages of rock history for a handful of songs: there’s “Makin’ Time,” its majestic opening riff burned into the synapses of Wes Anderson obsessives everywhere via the soundtrack to his early classic Rushmore; there’s its follow-up “Painter Man,” the group’s biggest commercial success (though minor at #36 on the UK chart) and its flipside “Biff, Bang, Pow”; and there’s the enduringly influential non-hit “How Does It Feel to Feel” (covered by The Godfathers, Halo of Flies, Ride, Psychic TV, and no doubt others).
But rock history tends to steamroll over short-lived and fleetingly successful acts; by 1968, after numerous lineup changes and extensive gigs throughout Germany (where they landed their biggest commercial achievements including We Are Paintermen, an LP culled from their 45s), The Creation called it a day.
Other comps followed (Discogs lists Action Painting as the 17th), with maybe the key assemblage being the ’73 release Creation 66–67 on the Charisma label; surely many a mod had that one. But perhaps the gesture that serves as the biggest compliment to the band’s strides of excellence is Rhino’s choice to open disc one of Nuggets II, the label’s 4CD plunge into British Beat and related activities, with “Makin’ Time.”
But hold that thought; prior to The Creation, there was The Mark Four. Amongst the lineup was singer Kenny Pickett, guitarist Eddie Phillips, drummer Jack Jones, and bassist John Dalton, the latter eventually to depart for The Kinks. After signing with manager Tony Stratton-Smith, new bassist Tony Cooke was replaced by Bob Garner, and shortly thereafter The Creation was born.
The Mark Four recorded four singles prior to the name change, but only the last two, waxed for Decca and Fontana, are included here. A casual listen leaves the impression of solid but unremarkable R&B-influenced mid-’60s Brit rocking, but deeper attention reveals a defter scenario, with “I’m Leaving” elevating rather than simply regurgitating Bo Diddley’s beat, and both sides of the Fontana disc finding Pickett in exuberant garage-punk mode a tad reminiscent of Mark Lindsay.
The Mark Four tunes illustrate how The Creation didn’t just stumble onto freakbeat brilliance. Standing as one of the ’60s strongest debuts, “Makin’ Time” flaunts the abovementioned riff, Phillips’ distinctive bowed guitar, a heavy yet propulsive rhythm, Pickett’s mod flair, and Shel Talmy’s savvy production. It’s B-side “Try and Stop Me” inches nearer to The Who, but is distinguished by sharpness of songwriting. In short, the platter should’ve been huge.
Signed to Talmy’s Planet label, distribution problems with Philips Records curtailed exposure for it and their follow-up single. Like many second efforts, “Painter Man” is not as raw, though in pop-psych terms it’s a gem, with Phillips continuing to fruitfully bow his strings as the rhythmic stomp keeps it out of toy town. “Biff, Bang, Pow” is a catchy rocker carried into immortality via Pickett’s microphone swagger; in addition to naming his label after The Creation, Alan McGee appropriated this tune’s title as the moniker of his early ’80s band.
From there, Action Painting rolls out the treats; there’s a killer hunk of Beat in the instrumental “Sylvette,” a deeper psych excursion in “Nightmares,” a flirtation with the baroque in “Life is Just Beginning,” and booming proto-hard rock in the exceptional “How Does It Feel to Feel.” Upon noticing the cover material, some might surmise that The Creation was stretched thin creativity, but both “Bonie Maronie” and “Cool Jerk” are sturdy. Against the odds, “Mercy Mercy Mercy” is even better.
Immediately after “Painter Man” the lineup changes set in; Jones was ousted then brought back, Pickett left, Garner took charge, Pickett came back, Phillips quit, Jones reformed the group, and good ol’ Ronnie Wood showed up late in the game. Throughout, Talmy’s steady production brings consistency to the whole. Sure, the sheer number of stereo mixes makes it unlikely that Action Painting’s 42 tracks will be soaked up in one sitting more than once or twice, but the way this set is assembled on LP encourages a full listen to all four sides, and the CDs are smartly divided and largely avoid repetition.
Bluntly, The Creation deserves this level of attention. Dean Rudland’s terrific notes find Talmy rating the band on the level of The Who and The Kinks, and the contents here back him up. Another observation; historically, The Creation ride atop the wave of Brit Beat groups the way the 13th Floor Elevators and The Sonics reside at the apex of the US garage band pyramid.
Rudland makes a special case for London as the top scene in a bustling 1966, and that’s where The Creation came to fleeting prominence. Teeming with eventfulness, the city was also something of a revolving door for the latest thing, and the band was ultimately cast aside. Action Painting makes it blatantly obvious that the boat was missed.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
