Plain and Fancy: Philwit And Pegasus - Philwit And Pegasus (1970 france / germany / uk, marvellous jazzy baroque psychedelia, 2003 remaster)

Sunday, September 28, 2025

Philwit And Pegasus - Philwit And Pegasus (1970 france / germany / uk, marvellous jazzy baroque psychedelia, 2003 remaster)

Like so many albums released in the waning days of psychedelia and sunshine pop, the story of Philwit & Pegasus’ lone, self-titled release is not that of an actual band but rather a producer and his coterie of musicians. In the case of Philwit & Pegasus, that producer was Mark Wirtz, a man better known for his rock- and pop-influenced easy listening releases – yet another hallmark of the era in which the underground fully erupted into the mainstream and beyond. But Wirt had cred within the psychedelic scene having co-written and produced Tomorrow’s “Excerpt from a Teenage Opera,” an unlikely 1967 that presaged the “rock opera” floodgates opened by The Who with the release of Tommy. Unfortunately, the excerpt remained just that, the larger work failing to materialize in any sort of cohesive form.

So rather than continue together, Wirtz’s concept for the teenage opera came out piecemeal over the course of the next four decades, released in 1996 as A Teenage Opera: The Original Soundtrack Recording and then compiled and released in a much more grandiose fashion in 2001 as The Fantastic Story of Mark Wirtz and the Teenage Opera. The only unifying force over the course of the collection’s two discs was Wirtz, the material performed by a myriad of “groups” that, like Philwit & Pegasus, were largely studio concoctions. But unlike more well-known producers from the era like Phil Spector, Joe Meek or Curt Boettcher – each of whom trafficked in their own particular brand of pop – Wirtz’s songwriting skills were not entirely in keeping with his ambitions. Because of this, the majority of his recorded output is a scattershot hodge-podge of music only tangentially related stylistically and thematically.

Originally released in 1970 and now appearing once more on vinyl, Philwit & Pegasus sounds very much a product of its time. There are elements of psychedelia, hints of folk rock and more than a little West Coast sunshine pop, hence the comparison to Boettcher, who worked with the Association, the Millennium and Sagittarius. Opening track “Happiness” is a prime example of the latter, the vocal ringers joining together in soaring, sunshiny pop harmony. “Happiness is sunshine bright [not to put too fine a point on the subgenre]/… Happiness making love/ Happiness is love,” they sing in keeping with the prevailing cultural attitude of the late-‘60s before the singer-songwriter introspection of the ‘70s crept in and took over.

Presented as a thematic song cycle (calling it an “album” would be artless), Philwit & Pegasus borrows bits and pieces of Wirtz’s teenage opera to construct a loose narrative arc. The album’s scattershot approach to assembling an arc or general theme is best summed up in “Yoyo Thoughts,” a song whose title alone speaks volumes to Wirtz’s approach. This isn’t to knock his ambition, however, as he clearly spent a fair amount of time taking Boettcher’s production work and the more baroque elements of the Beach Boys, post-Pet Sounds–the album’s second side pairing of “Philwit’s Phantasies” and “Lonely Flower,” in particular. Were it built on stronger material, the album could well be granted the coveted “lost masterpiece” sobriquet.

As it stands, however, it’s little more than a snapshot of a time when ideas far outweighed content. These ideas are well executed with a crack team of musicians (Wirtz himself acted only as producer) that included legendary session guitarist Chris Spedding (here credited incorrectly as Chris Bedding), Terry Cox (Pentagle), Joe Moretti (Gene Vincent), along with a half dozen or so vocalists who were proven hit makers – in Britain at least. “And I Try” sounds like early Bowie at its absolute worst (sub-“Cygnet Committee” for those looking for a reference point), while “Winter Face” relies on a Barney Kessel-esque jazz guitar opening that slowly moves into a spare, meandering ballad that, while not half bad, isn’t exactly the best example of the form. “My What a Lovely Day It’s Been” is as close as the album gets to attaining its soaring, operatic pop aspirations, the song building and building to an explosion of flower-powered harmonies, strings, horns and a massive hook.

What the narrative of Philwit & Pegasus was actually meant to convey is anyone’s guess; the songs seem only vaguely related, and stylistically the album is all over the map; “Jim Come Here,” a brief, cornpone barroom piss take, is particularly jarring after the regal majesty of “My What a Lovely Day It’s Been.” By no means an outright failure, it’s is an interesting curio from a more ambitious era in pop music when, post-Pepper, it seemed anything was possible. Just because they could, however, didn’t mean that they should. The album will appeal to those with a soft spot for baroque, sunshine pop that’s musically lush and gorgeous; if only it weren’t lyrically lacking, at times dissolving into wordless vocalizing and hippy-dippy cliches.

by John Paul, December 11, 2017