By the time Bad Company released its third album, Run With The Pack (released 1/30/76), a half-century ago, the group had already achieved the goals they set for themselves upon formation in 1973. Paul Rodgers and Simon Kirke sought more sustained success than they had experienced with Free (beginning with “All Right Now’), while guitarist Mick Ralphs was eager to attain more creative input than the evolution of Mott The Hoople allowed, with Ian Hunter having become the main creative force.
Pragmatically speaking, bassist Boz Burrell’s most notable contribution to Bad Company was his history of membership in King Crimson. That association allowed the foursome to be rightly termed a ‘supergroup’ and, with Led Zeppelin’s manager Peter Grant as their business supervisor, it only stands to reason the band became one of the first signings (and the initial release) on the aforementioned megaband’s own label, Swan Song Records.
With all that publicity surrounding the ‘new’ foursome, its immediate commercial breakthrough was inevitable. Both the eponymous debut and the sophomore effort, Straight Shooter, made the group famous around the world, to the extent that the release of Run With The Pack was almost anticlimactic, so much so that its opening cut, “Live For The Music,” rings altogether hollow.
And sure enough, a cosmetic quality, namely razor-sharp audio, turned out to be this record’s main attribute. Recorded on the Rolling Stones mobile unit by Ron Nevison–who cut his teeth working with the Who on Quadrophenia–the ten tracks were mixed by Eddie Kramer, Jimi Hendrix’ right-hand man in the studio in the late Sixties.
Jon Astley’s remastering for the 2017 reissue did not result in the polish and punch of the previous Bad Company longplayer. Nevertheless, his technical expertise did highlight the extent to which the band emphasized style over substance: rendering redundant Burrell’s concentration on root notes, Kirke’s bedrock drumming corresponded to Ralph’s brisk solos and fills on cuts like “Sweet Li’l Sister” (a rote description of the road if there ever was one).
Based on the soulful phrasing he used, Rodgers still sounded like one of rock’s greatest vocalists on selections like “Silver Blue & Gold” and the (self-referential?) “Fade Away.” But he was not singing with any true urgency, at least compared to his cathartic vocals on the final record by his previous ensemble, Heartbreaker.
And while Paul shared songwriting credits with Ralphs on Bad Company’s originals, the inclusion here of a bland reading of the Drifters’ “Young Blood” foreshadows the desultory nature of the next album, 1977’s Burnin’ Sky. Lacking the tongue-in-cheek attitude Leon Russell brought to his cover of the Fifties’ tune circa 1971’s The Concert For Bangla Desh, these musicians sound as bored as they look, pictured in the gatefold photo in front of a TV showing Bugs Bunny.
All that said, mainstream audience(s) heartily embraced the music of Bad Company, even as founding members came and went overthe ensuing years. Rodgers’ departure in the Eighties (eventually working with Jimmy Page in The Firm and with Queen years later) only furthered the pop leanings at the core of Bad Company’s overall concept.
Looking back five decades, Bad Company is just another one of those alliances of well-known band members that did not live up to artistic expectations or potential (see Blind Faith, Souther HIllman and Furay, among others). Extended perspective also reveals that, in the short term and long, the quartet was less than the sum of its parts and became increasingly so as the foursome moved on beyond Run With The Pack.
In fact, by the time Kirke was the only original member left in the lineup, amid a constantly shifting roster, ‘Bad Company’ was little more than a brand name, a state of being fully in keeping with its mercenary origins.
