#peter greem

Crawler: Crawler (1977)

No, this is not a Whitesnake album...

Crawler arose from the ruins of Back Street Crawler: the star-crossed group built around erstwhile Free guitarist Paul Kossoff that delivered just two, hit-and-miss long-players, before the drug-debilitated ‘Koss’ expired from a pulmonary embolism, mid-flight from L.A. to N.Y.C., on March 19, 1976.

As well as nearly derailing AC/DC’s first U.K. tour (a setback that the unstoppable Australians turned into another victory on their road to global domination), B.S.C.’s collapse and subsequent dismissal by Atlantic Records pushed the surviving musicians into emergency career re-think mode.

These were lead singer Terry Wilson Slesser (ex-Beckett), keyboardist John ‘Rabbit’ Bundrick, bassist Terry Wilson, and drummer Tony Braunagel (the latter two ex- Bloontz), who failed to convince either Mick Taylor or Peter Green (shocker!) to replace Kossoff, and had to settle for relative unknown guitarist Geoff Whitehorn, instead.

And then, after hustling a new deal from Epic Records, the reconstituted and renamed Crawler got to work on this self-titled debut with producer Alan Callan (is there an echo in here?), simultaneously trying to live up to their fallen figurehead’s old glories and branch into new directions 

Speaking to the former, both the laid-back blues “Pastime Dreamer” and the soulful ballad “You Are My Saviour” sure as shit wanted to be Free (but were not), while the album highlight “You Got Money” was a nasty, funky hard rocker (horns and all) that added just enough sauce to satisfy discerning customers. 

And as for the latter, Crawler exhibits their versatility on everything from slick, gutless boogie (“Without You Babe”), to flute-addled lounge rock (“Sold On Down the Line”), to white boy reggae (“Never Loved a Woman”), to flaccid disco (“You and Me”), to Doobie Brothers-style yacht rock (“Stone Cold Sober”).

Now, I couldn’t tell you whether this decision to stretch came down to innocence, ignorance, or arrogance, but at least it leaves no doubt as to the expert, seasoned musicianship of all those involved, even while it fairly reeks of a rudderless band, firing shots in the dark.

And yet, Crawler’s debut sold relatively well in America, where “Stone Cold Sober” (dig that rare live footage) enjoyed some radio airplay and climbed to No. 65.

But a second LP called (ugh) Snake, Rattle & Roll didn’t fare as well, despite benefitting from a considerable promotional push and high-profile opening slots with label mates Cheap Trick, plus Foreigner and Robin Trower.

And when Bundrick was hired to play keys for The Who near the end of 1978, Crawler finally crawled into a hole and died, although they obviously outlived their original leader, and its musicians went on to enjoy successful careers in backing bands based on their undeniable instrumental chops.