Concurrent to the development of punk – in the States and in the UK – there were a slew of discs that copped some of the new genre’s attitude while remaining independent of it. Of course, some of these offerings were being issued by folks who had initially inspired the ‘70s punk thing by working in out of control, spastic ‘60s styled hard rock and psychedelia. In Britain, one of the most respectable and influential folks of this ilk was Mick Farren.

Beginning in the mid ‘60s, Farren fronted a group called the Deviants from which any number of theories can be derived relating to the founding of a punk ethic. And while the group’s discs followed a slight downward trajectory, there wasn’t ever anything that rendered Farren a hack.

After disbanding that ensemble, the singer and song writer set to work on contributing a bit to the Pink Fairies. And while Farren wasn’t a constant part of that group, his stamp was all over the group’s music. Even with that, though, he opted to leave performance behind for almost a decade and concentrate on writing.

Contributing to New Music Express enabled Farren to remain close to what he loved – the music. And towards the middle of the punk thing’s ‘70s incarnation, Farren was offered a chance to record some new tunes. He accepted, wrangled Larry Wallis, who was also a part of the Fairies and prior to that Motorhead, as well as a few high profile guest stars including Chrissi Hynde, and set to work on a disc that would be titled Vampires Stole My Lunch Money.

Opening the album with an early ‘70s Frank Zappa cut – “Trouble Everyday” – was a profound statement for Farren and company. While the Britisher’s earlier work was all crazed, this Zappa track was originally a slow and meditative number. Of course, Farren ratchets up the tempo and turns it into a blues stomper, but the fact that Zappa was included anywhere on the disc points to the date leader’s dedication to the cultural outsider.

Most bizarre, though, is Farren’s “Bela Lugosi.” Just a few years on, Bauhaus would basically popularize whatever goth is (or was) with a similarly styled song. Regardless of that, though, Farren winds up prefiguring Tom Waits’ vocals while making use of the macabre for his lyrical stuffs. It’s just an odd confluence of sounds and ideas – and with those back up singers, it’d be difficult to blindly guess at who the track was from.

The rest of the disc all hard rock work and blues – nothing that directly prefigures punk, accept for that all important attitude and sneer.

Despite working his relative fame into a furry and reconstituting the Deviants a few years later during the early ‘80s, Farren’s career is really just something to gawk at. Excuse his transgressions – which include enlisting random American rock stalwarts for that Deviants line up – and start wading through his work. It might be inconsistent at times, but there certainly isn’t anything that won’t present itself as an interesting listen. Boss.