The Small Faces, "Ogden's Nut Gone Flake" (Immediate, 1968)

The folks who stocked record shelves found themselves in a bit of a pickle with the new Small Faces record in 1968. The cover of the "Ogden's Nut Gone Flake" LP is a blast of creativity, made to resemble a tobacco tin - right down to the round shape of the cardboard. As a result, the album tended to roll around quite a bit more than the standard square design.

While the cover served as either a headache or conversation piece, depending on your point of view, the real story was the music within. The Small Faces did a tremendous job in capturing the spirit of their time and place, London of the late '60s, while developing one of the first rock operas, a spirited tale that takes up the original LP's second side.

The Small Faces had been among the top bands in England since scoring some hit singles in 1965. Stylistically, the band bore a strong resemblance to what The Who was playing at the time, a version of American R&B inflused with the "mod" posturings that were popular in London at the time. Some say that the Small Faces had a leg up on The Who at the beginning, with Steve Marriott's raw-throated vocals more suited to the style than Roger Daltrey's.

Despite the success in their home country, the Small Faces were practically unknown on this side of the Atlantic until 1967, when the single "Itchycoo Park" hit the Top 20. The song, with its care-free lyrics and phase-shifted studio effects, was perfectly suited to the prevailing atmosphere of the time, but it represented a major stylistic departure from the band's roots.

The psychedelic overtones of "Itchycoo" and the album on which it appears, released in the United States as "There Are But Four Small Faces," reached fruition on the followup, that record in the weird round sleeve.

"Ogden's Nut Gone Flake" is divided into neat halves, with conventional-length songs on the first side and the suite on the second. The more concise tunes run the gamut from the title track, an intricately arranged instrumental that opens the album, to the pure whimsy of "Lazy Sunday": "I've got no mind to worry, close my eyes and drift away."

Along the way are some real gems, including keyboardist Ian McLagan's surreal "Long Agos and Worlds Apart" and the proto-metal "Song of a Baker," written by Marriott and bass player Ronnie Lane. Then there's "Rene," the bawdy tale of a dockside prostitute that evolves into a harmonica-driven blues jam.

For an even more involved tale, flip the record to the second side, which features six songs that tell the story of Happiness Stan and his quest to find the other half of the moon, riding a giant fly and meeting a wise old madman along the way. A guest narrator, Stanley Unwin, ties the proceedings together in a suitably bizarre cockney dialect, while the songs themselves represent another variety of influences. Some musical highlights within include "Rollin' Over," a driving jam that opened many Small Faces concerts of the period; "The Journey," a cerebral adventure that predates the Moody Blues' better-known "The Voyage" by a year; and the haunting folk-rock of "Mad John."

The album concludes on a decidedly upbeat note with "Happy Days Toy Town," a sing-along that offers this sage commentary: "Life is just a bowl of All Bran/You wake up every morning, and it's there."

The "Happiness Stan" portion of "Odgen's Nut Gone Flake" represents one of three rock operas that appeared in 1968 and '69, along with the Pretty Things' "S.F. Sorrow" and, of course, The Who's "Tommy." The Small Facess' effort is the most fun to listen to, by far.

But that was about it from the band. Marriott departed not long after "Ogden's" release, forming Humble Pie with a teenager named Peter Frampton. The other three Small Faces - Lane, McLagan and drummer Kenney Jones - hooked up with a pair of refugees from the Jeff Beck Group, Rod Stewart and Ron Wood, and dropped the "Small" from the group name.

And the record label that released "Ogden's," Immediate, went belly-up, leading to the album's reissue countless times by various companies, some of questionable quality.

In the age of compact disc, the album has been restored to its sonic fullness, giving listeners an opportunity to hear all the subtle nuances present, especially within the "Happiness Stan" saga.

But the CD packaging is rectangular, just like all the others. It's not 1968 anymore, after all.

RIP: Steve Marriott (1947-91), Ronnie Lane (1946-97)