It's strange that a band with a song as immediate as "All Right Now" is a bit of an acquired taste, but it's the truth. Free was a powerful, majestic hard rock band at their peak, but they were also a little obtuse; a lot of their power came from their playing, and their songwriting was epic, but often elliptical. As such, they're for hard rock connoisseurs – a band who gained a spirited, dedicated following largely because they took devotion to unlock their treasures, especially in the years following their breakup. For those fans, the five-disc Songs of Yesterday is a godsend. This is not a box for listeners with less than a consuming interest in the band (even if you think you want total immersion in Free, this will not be as effective as purchasing each of their albums) since this contains a wealth of unreleased material. Very few of the tracks are actual album tracks, most are alternate mixes or alternate versions, plus there are a lot of live tracks in the mix, as well.
Free's second album was recorded with the band itself in considerable turmoil. Principal songwriters Paul Rodgers and Andy Fraser demanded strict discipline from their bandmates, and guitarist Paul Kossoff in particular equally demanded the spontaneity and freedom that had characterized the group's debut. It was an awkward period; both Kossoff and drummer Simon Kirke came close to quitting, and only the intervention of Island label chief Chris Blackwell seems to have prevented it. Few of these tensions, however, are evident on the finished album. (Tribute, again, to Blackwell's powers of diplomacy.) He replaced original producer Guy Stevens early into the sessions and, having reminded both warring parties where the band's strengths lay, proceeded to coax out an album that stands alongside its predecessor as a benchmark of British blues at the turn of the 1970s.
One of the most uncompromising free jazz records ever made, this one-off improvisation by a group of Dutch players, led by percussionist Pierre Courbois, is an archetype of the style. Free jazz doesn't just require a lot of unrestrained blowing and freeform noise, although there are passages of that here…
If Fleetwood Mac, Humble Pie, and Foghat had never formed, Free would be considered one of the greatest post-Beatles blues-rock bands, and Fire and Water shows why. Conceptually fresh, with a great, roots-oriented, Band-like feel, the album found Free distinguishing itself with the public like Black Sabbath and Deep Purple did (in terms of impact only) in 1970. Free presented itself to the world as a complete band, in every sense of the word. From Paul Kossoff's exquisite and tasteful guitar work to Paul Rodgers' soulful vocals, this was a group that was easily worthy of the mantle worn by Cream, Blind Faith, or Derek & the Dominos.
Although Free was never destined to scrape the same skies as Led Zeppelin, when they first burst out of the traps in 1968, close to a year ahead of Jimmy Page and company, they set the world of British blues-rock firmly on its head. The band was a blistering combination of youth, ambition, and, despite those tender years, experience that across the course of their debut album, did indeed lay the groundwork for all that Zeppelin would embrace. The fact that Free and Zeppelin were cut from the same cloth is immediately apparent, even before you start comparing the versions of "The Hunter" included on both bands' debut albums. Where Free streaks ahead, however, is in their refusal to compromise their own vision of the blues. Even at its most commercial ("I'm a Mover" and "Worry"), Tons of Sobs has a density that makes Zeppelin and the rest of the era's rock contemporaries sound like flyweights by comparison. 8 Bonus tracks.