From that glorious year of ’71, the Quo lay down a slab of… not quite what you’d expect.

A gatefold sleeve confronts you with a two-headed bulldog, in front of some no doubt historical edifice, despite its ultra-cheapo tinting. The rear gives you no clues, and miscredits the names of three out of four band members (swish!). The inside of the gatefold reveals, on one side, a very blurry pic of four young guys who BLOODY WELL MEANT BUSINESS. The other side shows the four guys one by one — they look MEAN ; you can almost smell them, just by looking. 

Side one opens with “Umleitung”, a seven-minute plus boogie with some VERY unusual twists and turns. Then (a recurring feature) a short excerpt of the acoustic “Nanana”. “Something Going On In My Head” is a bizarrely constructed song in many ways, yet still works and has the best example ever of a “wrong” note working perfectly. The smart money is on Kurt Cobain hearing this before “Teen Spirit” arrived to annoy a generation. “Mean Girl” is, I suppose, standard fare yet is frighteningly fast and the side closes with another slice of “Nanana”.

Side two, and it’s “Gerdundula”. If, say, Led Zeppelin had recorded this, mainstream music mags would rave about the folky yet aggressive guitar melody. As it happens, it’s Quo, so no-one gives it the time of day. Great vocal harmonies and percussion, too (a previously recorded version, more acoustic, was on the B‑side of the I’s-so-stoned-it’s-unbelievable single “In My Chair”, but this is the best one. Trust me). Were Quo attempting to appeal to Kraut/prog fans with these titles? Who knows. “Railroad” is a two-part boogie/blues shuffle, nothing particularly unusual apart from the acoustic bridge. However, “Someone’s Learning” is a mighty beast indeed. A lovely intro, piledriving (pun intended) riff, WILD lead part, then the bass and drums stop, and the two guitars play a horribly brilliant harmony part for a few bars and then it crashes (or, to be more accurate, squeals) to a halt. It picks up again from where it started and finishes on an almighty primitive distortion crash. You can actually hear the fuzz pedal being kicked in… The writer of this brain-numbing noise, Alan Lancaster, said it was about Northern Ireland as he saw it at the time. 

It finishes with the gentle acoustic song “Nanana” (in full this time), in which Francis Rossi thanks his listeners for staying with him until the end, and you’ll be damn glad you did. Expect the somewhat unexpected.