REVIEW: FIRE AND WATER BY FREE

Fire and Water

Is this one of the greatest albums, ever?

Free were underrated. And they remain so. Often damned with such praise as a ‘meat and potatoes’ band, or one with ‘common sense’ playing, whatever that may be. Their blues, hard rock style has been compared with other bands from the late sixties and early seventies such as Blind Faith, Cream and Derek and the Dominoes, placing their late lead guitarist, Paul Kossoff, up there with Eric Clapton. Quite right too.

And it shouldn’t stop there. Their greatness ranks alongside other contemporaries such as Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath and Rainbow. Yet they are frequently forgotten.

The same goes for their definitive album, Fire and Water. On a recent YouTube, Andy Edwards declared this as among the greatest albums of all time. Yet it is hardly used to such lofty praise.

Okay, all these rankings should be constructed with a hefty dollop of levity. Such assessments are subjective. The greatest of anything, band or album, should come with a health warning. It is in the eye of the beholder. But is it all a matter of subjectivity? Any ranking of quality is an uncertain, shifting mix of individual taste and bias, along with a wobbly consensus of objective aesthetic values. This alloy means that it is forever a matter of debate. And that is part of the fun. But anyone with a love of hard rock will surely be in agreement. Free were a damn fine band. And Fire and Water is probably their greatest achievement.

I was still a young schoolboy when Free’s single, All Right Now, was riding high in the charts. It was everywhere on the radio where it remains over fifty years later, a staple part of any classic rock station. But the album it came from, Fire and Water, was still unknown to me. That is, until my older sister’s boyfriend brought it round to our house, part of a clutch of vinyl he left with us for weeks on end. It seemed my duty to give it some love and attention. I gazed cautiously at the album cover, and a photo of four generously hirsute men staring out at me. I always blinked first.

The family’s recent pride and joy was a stereogram, a fashion faux pas of the late sixties and seventies. It was a monstrous wooden cabinet, with speakers fitted at each end and a turnable and radio hiding beneath its lid, that fought for supremacy over the ubiquitous tv in some far corner of the British living room. For me, it was an escape into another world, away from school and warring parents. The stereogram was hi-fi for families and older types who eschewed the newly arrived, groovy ‘separates’ systems, arranged in imposing tower blocks and a spaghetti of trailing leads. No, no. A stereogram was a ‘nice bit of furniture’ that fitted into your living space as neatly as a sideboard. Ours was in teak veneer. So this is how I got to know Free and Fire and Water.

It was their third studio album, released in 1970. The band had formed two years earlier: Paul Rodgers on vocals, Paul Kossoff on lead guitar, Andy Fraser on bass and Simon Kirke on drums. The album reached number two in the UK charts and seventeen in the US. Due to this and the hit single, All Right Now, they secured a spot at the Isle of Wight Festival that same year, playing to an estimated 600,000 stoned hippies.

Before Free, Andy Fraser had played in the legendary John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers. Kossoff and Kirke had played together in the heavy blues Black Cat Bones. Paul Rodger’s had began his musical career with Roadrunners (later to become the Wildflowers). He played bass before being encouraged to sing. Considering his soulful voice as one of the best in the business, this seems extraordinary. Later Rodgers became the frontman for Brown Sugar and met Kossoff at a night spot while performing with this band.

The exceptionally gifted Kossoff left Free in 1972. He released his excellent solo album, Back Street Crawler, that is well worth purchasing. But his life was short and ultimately tragic. Throughout most of his adult life he struggled with a heroin addiction, and died in 1976 at the tender age of 25. A waste of a life. A waste of a huge talent.

After Fire and Water, Free went on to release Highway in the same year, Free Live (1971), *Free at Last (1972), and Heartbreaker* (1973).

After Free disbanded. Kirke and Kossoff went on to greater acclaim with Bad Company. This was hard rock but with a more commercial flair. It, therefore, gained them more fame and financial success than their previous band.

As Free’s breakthrough album, Fire and Water is surprisingly short, clocking in at just 35 minutes. But these are seven near perfect tracks, averaging around five minutes long. They range from slow to mid-tempo. Despite the hard rock genre, the songs are not frenetic. But they are heavy. The groove is powerful and deliberate, with more soul than anything under that named genre. These songs are measured and controlled, each holding immense strength and affect. They effortlessly dominate. Rodger’s bluesy voice underpinned by Kossoff, wringing out every last ounce of emotion from his Les Paul, and backed by Kirke’s and Fraser’s solid rhythm section, bludgeoning and dancing in equal measure, managed to produce an album that remains a stone cold classic, sounding as fresh today as it did then.

The album opens with the title track. Kirke’s snare and Kossoff’s electric presence kicks it all into play. A few descending notes and we’re into the song proper. This is one of Free’s defining tracks. It rocks big and heavy. Kossoff throws out red meat riffs as a perfect frame for Rodger’s gutsy vocals. Then comes the guitar solo on full vibrato. Nothing rushed or too flashy. It plays to the song while pushing it onto another level. If this doesn’t grab you, check your pulse.

Oh I Wept is a little slower, a bit more mellow. The vocals are plaintive. Kirke pounds it out, slow but forceful and right on point. Kossoff’s midpoint solo meets up with the vocals to take it away for another masterclass on less is more.

Remember is a chugging, mid-tempo number that has room to breathe, power to spare, and plenty of attitude. The groove is deep and funky. It’s a slow burn. Kossoff’s strings melt, liquid gold.

Side one ends with Heavy Load. Opening with piano, Rodger’s voice sounds suitably weary with the weight of the title. The narration describes something old and familiar. The road is one we all travel. A slow rhythmic piano holds up the middle section, Fraser’s bass underscoring, then Kossoff coming in for a delicate interchange, before Rodger’s picks it up again to conclude the track. Pure magic.

Flip over for the iconic Mr Big. A big drum intro before Kossoff joins with a doom-heavy riff. The bass become prominent, shivering and resonating with every beat. A solo kicks off with Kossoff wailing, cajoling and slashing, but as it runs away the bass follows, catches up and takes over as lead instrument. This is Fraser’s track, for sure. Bass work that is impeccable and exemplary. At the crescendo, Rodger’s gives a cry from the depths of his soul. Amazing stuff.

Don’t Say You Love Me, is a Free ballad, I guess. Only this one is sugar free. It’s slow and mesmerising, leaving scorch marks in its wake. Free are able to bring more emotion and depth of feeling than any other band of its type. And always without sentimentality. And always remaining the coolest band out there. The power is effortless, it burns yet stays restrained.

How can you end all that? Only with All Right Now, the classic rock song. Kossoff’s blistering riff blasts from the speakers, a visceral onslaught of gut and glory. A dubious tale of a girl standing in the street, performing the unlikely task of smiling from her head to her feet. But he takes her home, anyway, at which point the girl thinks he’s trying to trick her into love. And so he responds in the only way possible, merrily reassuring her with, ‘all right now’ on repeat. Well no one came here for the lyrics, did they? It’s all about the music and Rodger’s fine set of vocal chops. And with those, he can sing about anything he likes.

But I hope the band got well paid for selling this song, merely to flog some chewing gum. Alas, the gum has stuck to the song’s legacy like Wrigley’s finest, on your shoe sole, on a hot summer’s day.

Nevertheless the album stands as Free’s standout moment. It sounds as good today as it did over half a century ago, and is certainly a contender for one of the greatest 35 minutes on record, ever.

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