The Pretty Things, "S.F. Sorrow" (Columbia, 1968)

The rock opera has never really taken off as an art form, perhaps because it's asking too much to maintain a listener's attention for an extended period.

The Who made it work with "Tommy" and "Quadrophenia," and Pink Floyd with "The Wall." Other than that ... does anyone remember Fairport Convention's "Babbacombe Lee"? Marty Balin's "Rock Justice"? Ray Manzarek's "The Whole Thing Started With Rock & Roll, Now It's Out of Control"?

OK, then.

Most casual fans assume the rock opera originated with the release of "Tommy" in 1969, but it actually has a couple of antecedents. One of them was by the "Tommy" mastermind himself, Pete Townshend, who strung together a series of shorter tunes to form "A Quick One, While He's Away" as early as 1966. Keith West, lead singer for Tomorrow, scored a huge British hit with "Excerpt from a Teenage Opera" in 1967, and the Moody Blues developed a somewhat unifying theme within the orchestra-laden album "Days of Future Passed."

The following year probably marks the birth of the rock opera. The Small Faces devoted the second side of their album "Odgens Nut Gone Flake" to a series of songs connected by narration and detailing the adventures of one Happiness Stan. And Procol Harum took up most of side two of "Shine On Brightly" with the similarly executed "In Held 'Twas In I."

But the honor for producing the first full album featuring a single story line probably belongs to the Pretty Things, the London-based band that once was described as being just like the Rolling Stones, only more obnoxious.

The Things scored some decent British chart success with a rhythm-and-blues approach, including "Rosalyn" and "Don't Bring Me Down," both of which David Bowie covered on his "Pinups" album. But as the band switched its musical stylings to represent contemporary developments circa late 1966 and early '67, sales took a nosedive.

The band continued in a progressive direction with a new label, Columbia, releasing a single called "Defecting Grey." The ambitious composition incorporates many of the sonic elements being brought into popularity at the time by bands like the Beatles and the Pink Floyd, plus it also tells a story in its own right. But the single sank without a trace.

Undaunted, the Pretty Things went to work on an album that would tell a story. The result came out in late '68 as "S.F. Sorrow," which chronicles a Britisher from his birth through his service in World War I, through the death of his girlfriend in a balloon accident, through his own passing. Admittedly, the plotline is obscure to the point of being lost; a version recorded by the band 30 years later, appropriately titled "Resurrection," includes narration by Arthur Brown (of Crazy World fame) to bring the various songs together in a more coherent manner.

Even without the connecting theme, the songs for the most part could stand on their own as shining examples of the marriage of blues, folk and psychedelic elements that characterized British rock at the time.

The scene-setting "S.F. Sorrow is born," kicks off with crisply played acoustic guitar, which Dick Taylor continues to pick against an orchestral background, creating a sound not unlike what the Moody Blues were doing at the time. "Bracelets of Fingers" follows with some well-executed harmony vocals that swirl around in the mix, an indicator of the growing awareness of how interesting things could sound through headphones. The bridge features sitar playing courtesy of Jon Povey, who was working an instrument owned by none other than George Harrison.

The proceedings get heavier with "She Says Good Morning," on which Taylor plays some very distorted guitar over a strident riff that conveys the tension of S.F. meeting his beloved. That tension heightens with the ensuing trilogy of tunes: "Private Sorrow," which takes the protagonist to the front; "Balloon Burning," which brings further tragedy; and the self-explanatory "Death." "Balloon" is a particularly effective piece, with Taylor's near-metallic guitar evoking images of carnage.

The rest of the album takes the protagonist on a series of further adventures before concluding with the brief, spare "The Loneliest Person," which pretty much sums up the plight of S.F. Sorrow. Pretty Things frontman Phil May does his best singing in sending the message: "You might be the loneliest person in the world/You'll never be as lonely as me."

Maybe if he were deaf, dumb and blind, "S.F. Sorrow" might have been a hit, but at the time it first appeared, the record-buying public looked elsewhere. The album didn't even receive an American release until early 1970, on the Motown subsidiary label Rare Earth, of all places. Sales were negligible.

It wasn't until some writers began making serious inquiries into the history of rock that "S.F. Sorrow" began to gain some notoriety as perhaps the first rock opera. By then, the original band had split, although it has re-formed many times over the years, much to the delight of fans who recognize the Pretty Things' spirit of innovation and how the band just might have launched a new way to go about making albums.