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**Ooh La La** - The Faces ★★★★☆

They say all good things must come to an end, and for the Faces, that end came with a whimper rather than a bang in 1975. By then, Rod Stewart had already become a solo megastar, leaving his bandmates feeling like backing musicians at their own party. The writing was on the wall even before their final album hit the shelves – ironically titled "Ooh La La," it would serve as both their creative peak and their swan song, a bittersweet farewell from one of rock's most gloriously ramshackle outfits.

But let's rewind to 1973, when this magnificent mess of an album was born. The Faces were riding high on their reputation as the ultimate good-time band, the loveable rogues who could drink you under the table and still deliver a killer show. Yet beneath the surface, cracks were already showing. Rod Stewart's solo career was taking off like a rocket, and the democratic spirit that once defined the band was giving way to the harsh realities of rock stardom. Recording sessions for "Ooh La La" were sporadic affairs, with Stewart often absent, leaving Ronnie Wood, Ronnie Lane, Ian McLagan, and Kenney Jones to soldier on without their charismatic frontman.

What emerged from this chaos was perhaps their most cohesive statement – a collection of songs that perfectly captured the Faces' essence while hinting at the individual talents that would soon scatter to the winds. The album sits comfortably in that sweet spot between pub rock and stadium anthems, blending the band's signature boozy swagger with moments of surprising tenderness and introspection.

The title track stands as the album's crowning achievement, though in typical Faces fashion, it almost didn't happen. When it came time to record vocals, Stewart was nowhere to be found, leaving the band to convince the painfully shy Ronnie Wood to step up to the microphone. Wood's reluctant, almost conversational delivery gives the song an intimacy that Stewart's more theatrical approach might have overwhelmed. It's a perfect encapsulation of the band's philosophy – sometimes the best moments come from happy accidents and making do with what you've got.

"Silicone Grown" showcases the Faces at their most raucous, a rollicking rocker that sounds like it was recorded in a pub at closing time. McLagan's barrelhouse piano and Wood's sloppy-but-effective guitar work create the kind of organized chaos that was the band's calling card. Meanwhile, "Glad and Sorry" reveals their softer side, a wistful ballad that demonstrates Ronnie Lane's underappreciated songwriting abilities and the band's capacity for genuine emotion beneath all the laddish posturing.

The album's musical DNA is pure British rock and roll, filtered through American blues and R&B influences, with a healthy dose of folk storytelling thrown into the mix. It's music for Saturday nights and Sunday morning regrets, songs that sound equally at home in a stadium or spilling out of a jukebox in some dingy backstreet boozer. The production, handled by the band themselves along with Glyn Johns, captures their loose, lived-in sound perfectly – it's rough around the edges but never sloppy, professional but never sterile.

What makes "Ooh La La" particularly poignant is how it serves as a time capsule of a band and an era that was already slipping away. This was rock and roll before corporate polish and stadium bombast took over, when five mates could stumble into the studio half-cut and emerge with something magical. The album's charm lies in its imperfections – the slightly out-of-tune vocals, the ragged guitar solos, the sense that everything could fall apart at any moment but somehow holds together through sheer force of personality.

Today, "Ooh La La" stands as a testament to the Faces' enduring influence on rock music. While they may not have achieved the commercial heights of their contemporaries, their impact on everyone from the Black Crowes to Oasis is undeniable. The album has aged gracefully, its rough-hewn charm feeling increasingly precious in our over-produced digital age. It reminds us that sometimes the best rock and roll comes not from technical perfection, but from the magical chemistry between musicians who genuinely love playing together – even when they're falling apart.