vinylfanatics.com

**Family - Music In A Doll's House: When Progressive Rock Got Its Groove On**

Before diving into the kaleidoscopic wonder that is "Music In A Doll's House," it's worth understanding how Family emerged from the ashes of Leicester's psychedelic scene like some beautiful, chaotic phoenix. Originally called The Farinas, this quintet of musical misfits had been kicking around the Midlands circuit since 1966, but it wasn't until they relocated to London and reinvented themselves as Family that things got properly interesting. With Roger Chapman's distinctive growl-whisper vocals and Rob Townsend's genre-defying drum work leading the charge, they quickly caught the attention of Traffic's Dave Mason, who helped secure them a deal with Reprise Records.

Released in July 1968, "Music In A Doll's House" arrived at the perfect moment when rock music was shedding its three-chord skin and growing into something more ambitious. Family weren't content to simply ride the psychedelic wave – they grabbed it by the throat and bent it to their will, creating a sound that was simultaneously rootsy and experimental, accessible yet wonderfully weird. This wasn't the pastoral whimsy of their contemporaries; this was psychedelia with dirt under its fingernails.

The album opens with "The Chase," a swirling vortex of backwards vocals and hypnotic rhythms that immediately signals you're not in Kansas anymore. Chapman's voice – that remarkable instrument that could shift from tender croon to primal scream within a single phrase – guides listeners through a sonic landscape that feels both ancient and futuristic. But it's "Mellowing Grey" that truly showcases the band's range, building from delicate acoustic beginnings into a thunderous crescendo that would make Led Zeppelin take notes.

Perhaps the album's crown jewel is "Hey Mr. Policeman," a seven-minute epic that encapsulates everything brilliant about Family's approach. Starting as a seemingly straightforward rocker, it gradually morphs into something far stranger, with Rick Grech's bass lines weaving through Jim King's saxophone like smoke through a jazz club at 3 AM. The song's political edge – unusual for the flower power era – hints at the band's refusal to embrace the era's more naive tendencies.

"Music In A Doll's House" would prove to be the first chapter in Family's holy trinity of albums. 1969's "Family Entertainment" saw them refining their sound, stripping away some of the psychedelic excess while doubling down on their rhythmic complexity. By the time "A Song For Me" arrived in 1970, they had evolved into one of Britain's most formidable live acts, with Chapman's stage presence – part shaman, part madman – becoming the stuff of legend. These three albums form a perfect arc, documenting a band's journey from promising experimenters to fully realized artists.

What made Family special wasn't just their musical adventurousness, but their refusal to be categorized. They were too heavy for the folkies, too weird for the rockers, and too British for the blues purists. This very unclassifiability may have limited their commercial success – they never quite achieved the recognition afforded to contemporaries like Jethro Tull or King Crimson – but it's also what makes their music so enduringly fascinating.

The influence of "Music In A Doll's House" can be heard echoing through decades of alternative rock. You can trace lines from Chapman's vocal gymnastics to Robert Plant's wailing, from the band's rhythmic complexity to the math rock movement, from their genre-blending approach to the entire post-rock phenomenon. Bands like Radiohead and Tool owe more to Family than they probably realize.

Today, "Music In A Doll's House" stands as a monument to creative fearlessness. In an era when rock music was still defining itself, Family refused to accept limitations, creating an album that sounds as vital and strange now as it did fifty-five years ago. It's a reminder that the best art often comes from the spaces between genres, from artists brave enough to follow their muse wherever it leads, even if that destination happens to be a particularly unsettling doll's house where the music never stops playing.

For those ready to explore beyond the well-trodden paths of classic rock, Family's debut remains an essential journey into the beautiful unknown.