The band initially consisted in 1969 of Steve Marriott (formerly of Small Faces; lead vocals, guitar, keyboards), Peter Frampton (from The Herd; lead guitar), Greg Ridley (from Spooky Tooth; bass) and Jerry Shirley (from The Apostolic Intervention; drums).
The joining of all these fairly known players resulted in Humble Pie being considered a bit of a “supergroup”. Worried about great expectations, the group began working together in secret at Marriott's cottage in Moreton, Essex. Signed to Andrew Loog Oldham's Immediate Records, their debut single "Natural Born Boogie" was rushed out in 1969 and was a UK number five hit; it was quickly followed by the album As Safe As Yesterday Is, praised as a progressive album in the vein of Small Faces. Their second album Town and Country was also released in 1969 and featured a more acoustic sound. Humble Pie concerts at this time featured an acoustic set followed by an electric set, an approach that would become popular decades later.
1970 saw the financial collapse of Immediate, a switch to A&M Records, and a change in band management. The albums Humble Pie and Rock On, both released that year, alternated between progressive rock and boogie rock excess. A concert at the Fillmore East in NYC was captured on Perfomance Rockin' The Fillmore (1971); it is considered one of the best live rock albums of its era, with Marriott, Frampton, and the rest of the group in fine form. The loud-quiet-loud epic "I Don't Need No Doctor" was an FM radio hit in the United States, propelling the album to the group's biggest commercial success yet.
However, Frampton had already left the band by the time of the album's release, to pursue a solo career that would become extremely successful later in the 1970s. With Dave "Clem" Clempson replacing Frampton, Humble Pie moved towards an even harder sound at the urging of manager Dee Anthony, emphasizing Marriott's blues and soul roots.
Smokin' (1972) had a minor hit in "Thirty Days in the Hole" and was reasonably successful commercially based on the group's constant touring. As a premiere US concert attraction, they traveled in a customized private jet, and partook in all forms of the rock n roll excess available to formerly working class musicians that rose to fame and riches in this era, even hiring The Blackberries, a trio of black backup singers including Vanetta Fields formerly of The Ikettes. Nevertheless the band's extended, long form concert boogie jam rock style was unable to break them into the mainstream radio. Eat It (1974) was three sides of mostly R&B covers and one side live, and while appreciated by their core fans, did nothing to expand the group's audience. The group staged the Goodbye Pie Tour in 1975 and essentially broke up.
In 1980 Marriott, divorced, and with financial problems in the UK, relocated to Atlanta Georgia and revived Humble Pie with Shirley, adding Bobby Tench (from Jeff Beck Group) on guitar and Anthony "Sooty" Jones on bass. Two albums with a more modern heavy metal sound were released but the effort soon fell apart. In 1991 Marriott and Frampton began collaborating again, with another Humble Pie rebirth possibly in the offing, but an unfortunate house fire took Marriott's life before anything tangible could materialise. http://rockandrollgarage.com/the-tragic-story-of-steve-marriott-death/
Cold Lady
Humble Pie Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
With thought of more than just a laugh
You know that all I hope to do is make you understand
Just what I am and what I'm trying to say
I'm gonna try, I'm gonna try
To make you talk to me
I'm gonna cry, I'm gonna cry
The hidden fear, you won't see
Down along the way
Will you pick me up or would you
Put me down--
Surely sir, I really could not say
I'm gonna try, I'm gonna try
To make you talk to me
I'm gonna cry, I'm gonna cry
The hidden fear, you won't see
And then, I...know I try to fly
Like bird with broken wing
And I'm running before I can walk
I need, I need someone to take my hand
Lead me through the wall
I'm gonna try, I'm gonna try
To make you talk to me
I'm gonna cry, I'm gonna cry
The hidden fear...
The hidden fear, you won't see
In Humble Pie's song Cold Lady, the singer is communicating his feelings to someone he cares about deeply. He starts by asking if the person has seen him sad before and reveals that he wants to express more than just laughter around them. The singer hopes to make the other person understand him completely and what he is trying to say. In the chorus, he appears to be having difficulties communicating and wishes for the person to talk to him more, instead of hiding their true feelings. He expresses fear that others might not see this hidden fear that he carries with him.
As the song continues, he shows vulnerability by stating that he is like a bird with a broken wing who is trying to fly. He knows he is running before he can walk and needs someone to hold his hand and help him through the challenges he is facing. The singer is asking the person he loves to be there for him, to pick him up when he falls, and help him navigate life's struggles. The song ends with him expressing hope that the person will finally understand him, what he needs, and the fear he carries.
This song showcases the emotions and struggles of a person who is trying to express themselves and connect with someone who is important to them. It conveys the need for support and understanding in a relationship to overcome fear and achieve personal growth.
Line by Line Meaning
Tell me have you ever seen me sad before
Have you noticed my sadness lately?
With thought of more than just a laugh
It's deeper than just humor
You know that all I hope to do is make you understand
I want you to truly comprehend my feelings
Just what I am and what I'm trying to say
My identity and message are important to me
I'm gonna try, I'm gonna try
To make you talk to me
I'll do my best to get you to open up
I'm gonna cry, I'm gonna cry
The hidden fear, you won't see
Even though I'm scared, I won't show it openly
And then if when I try, though, I start to fall
Down along the way
Will you pick me up or would you
Put me down--
Surely sir, I really could not say
If I stumble, will you support me or abandon me? I don't know
And then, I...know I try to fly
Like bird with broken wing
I'm trying to achieve something that seems impossible given my current state
And I'm running before I can walk
I need, I need someone to take my hand
Lead me through the wall
I'm being too hasty without considering the necessary steps. I need guidance
The hidden fear, you won't see
I'm hiding my fear from you
Lyrics © O/B/O APRA AMCOS
Written by: A: JERRY SHIRLEY
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
@yourfavfigureskater21
Jerry, I have been listening to you and the Pie for some forty-plus years. My first concert (at 15) was during your farewell tour -- at the Amphitheatre in Chicago. I'd gone to the record store/head shop in search of Alvin Lee & Co tickets, but they were sold out. I asked what else they had on sale, and the salesman turned me on to you guys. I still love Alvin Lee, but I have never forgotten the good turn the record store clerk did me by selling me those tickets to your show.
Anyway, I have been listening to your songs somewhat more regularly of late -- maybe because of age, or maybe because of homesickness (for a different time, if that is possible). Last night, coincidentally, I wrote this poem -- a tribute to Steve, whose death I consider to be particularly tragic (among rock deaths):
As Safe As Yesterday
Stephen Peter Marriott sings
one of my favorite songs,
We Can Work It Out,
as a soul or gospel singer might,
with the embellished melody
rising and falling,
moving sideways
from the written note
against the tyranny of the ledger,
with a pared-down ensemble,
electric guitar muted,
here and there
attaching a phrase
or even just a single note
to what he is doing,
providing antiphony
for his smokey nodal
delivery of the text.
Would that we could occupy
the present of the past
as God can,
not to have another chance
at getting it right
but to hang out there
from time to time,
as the need arises.
What was Marriott doing
singing that song, if not
occupying that space
to which God alone
allows admittance?
You wonder what he'd said to God --
how it was he'd gained permission --
to be given the freedom
to roam imaginatively
through a time already
relegated to a bygone decade.
This request, however it is asked,
might be the last thought
you have when the last clap
of the last person
to bring his hands together
on your behalf
reverberates in the hall
or amphitheatre
(or reading room)
to which that final
moment brings you:
Just wishing
that you could
back away from that wall
(having fallen off
the wrong side of the bed),
roll over and escape the fire,
get to the door --
what you have long prayed for
and until now managed --
in that instant of not knowing
(but being pretty sure)
that you won't make it.
So then pictures take over,
relieve you of the worry --
the panic -- that you failed.
God gives you freedom instead
to see your children in the present
of the future -- that they are alright
(even if they won't be) without you:
healthy, content, happy,
with children of their own maybe,
themselves able to occupy space
in the present of the past
(with you there too perhaps)
for driving away the fear
of the eternal present
that dogs us unremittingly
even across generations.
Listen to the song,
and see if it doesn't do
for you what it did for me
and for Steve Marriott,
who, though he sang it
in the present of the past,
gifted it to the present
of the future, for us
as consolation in the present --
for as long as it might be
our destiny to abide in it,
awaiting our chance to do
something half as good
with the present of the past
as he was able to do it,
if only for someone you love
to cherish as a memento from
the present of your future
as you saw it in that moment
when, having fallen from the bed,
face to the wall, as Steve, you
were unable to reach the door.
In the event that there should be any reason for contacting me, feel free to do so at paulhunt@illinoisalumni.org
Otherwise, all the best for your future endeavors.
And thanks,
Paul
@hopeulikenudes
Tell me, have you ever seen me sad before?
With thought of more than just a laugh?
You know that all I hope to do is make you understand
Just what I am and what I'm trying to say.
I'm gonna try, I'm gonna try
To make you talk to me
I'm gonna cry, I'm gonna cry
The hidden fear, you won't see.
And then if when I try, though I start to fall
Down along the way
Will you pick me up or would you put me down?
Surely sir, I really could not say, oh yeah.
I'm gonna try, I'm gonna try
To make you talk to me
I'm gonna cry, I'm gonna cry
The hidden fear, you won't see.
And then I know I try to fly
Like bird with broken wing
And I'm running before I can walk
I need, I need someone to take my hand
Lead me through the wall.
I'm gonna try, I'm gonna try
To make you talk to me
I'm gonna cry, I'm gonna cry
The hidden fear, the hidden fear, you won't see, yeah..
@TonyM-Z-Scale
This song deserves much more exposure than it has gotten over the years.
@CaptainGanja
Excellent and so full of feeling. Steve Marriott was the man!
@gerryradford4812
BEAUTIFUL,,, Marriott Frampton. With awesome backing guys hell of a set up. Gx
@mrt3870
I first heard this in 1970 on the Immediate sampler "Happy to Be a Part of the Industry of Human Happiness". It's well engineered - you can hear each instrument and voice clearly.
@stephensmith6888
one of best pie tracks along with i go alone and bang......the immediate yrs they were up there with the best
@marybrowning5657
The first time I heard Humble Pie was around 71 or 72. I still love their music
@robinwilson1433
HP formed in January 1969. I love the group, too!
@jerryshirley4628
a comment on here 3 years ago, but hey who's counting, by Luca Mattia stating that all the people who rightfully said Peter Frampton was playing drums and I was playing electric piano, were wrong. Well I only just saw Luca's comment and while I thank you so much for your interest in our music especially this song as I wrote it but the truth is that Peter Frampton DID play drums on this track while I played Wurlitzer piano and Steve Marriott played acoustic guitar with Greg Ridley on Bass.
In my humble opinion Steve sang one the best vocal performances he ever did on this song, Cheers, JERRY
@xJayWalkerx
Hi Jerry,
many thanks for shering your memories on youtube. I'm one of these people who wasn't even born in the 70's (and I'm not from England or USA) so youtube is a grat place for me to read comments about how it actually was to be on Humble Pie's gig etc.
I'm currently reading your book 'Best Seat in the House' and it's fantastic (I'm on chapter 14 right now), I would say a must read for any Humble Pie fan. Previously I've read Steve Marriott's biography and wasn't happy about how little attention the authors destined for Humble Pie.
I hope you will write a second volume in the near futute :-))). I'm sure there are many people who would love to read what happened next.
I must say that I love "Cold Lady", you wrote a beautiful song, and Steve's vocal is really one of his best in this song. :-)
@yourfavfigureskater21
Jerry, I have been listening to you and the Pie for some forty-plus years. My first concert (at 15) was during your farewell tour -- at the Amphitheatre in Chicago. I'd gone to the record store/head shop in search of Alvin Lee & Co tickets, but they were sold out. I asked what else they had on sale, and the salesman turned me on to you guys. I still love Alvin Lee, but I have never forgotten the good turn the record store clerk did me by selling me those tickets to your show.
Anyway, I have been listening to your songs somewhat more regularly of late -- maybe because of age, or maybe because of homesickness (for a different time, if that is possible). Last night, coincidentally, I wrote this poem -- a tribute to Steve, whose death I consider to be particularly tragic (among rock deaths):
As Safe As Yesterday
Stephen Peter Marriott sings
one of my favorite songs,
We Can Work It Out,
as a soul or gospel singer might,
with the embellished melody
rising and falling,
moving sideways
from the written note
against the tyranny of the ledger,
with a pared-down ensemble,
electric guitar muted,
here and there
attaching a phrase
or even just a single note
to what he is doing,
providing antiphony
for his smokey nodal
delivery of the text.
Would that we could occupy
the present of the past
as God can,
not to have another chance
at getting it right
but to hang out there
from time to time,
as the need arises.
What was Marriott doing
singing that song, if not
occupying that space
to which God alone
allows admittance?
You wonder what he'd said to God --
how it was he'd gained permission --
to be given the freedom
to roam imaginatively
through a time already
relegated to a bygone decade.
This request, however it is asked,
might be the last thought
you have when the last clap
of the last person
to bring his hands together
on your behalf
reverberates in the hall
or amphitheatre
(or reading room)
to which that final
moment brings you:
Just wishing
that you could
back away from that wall
(having fallen off
the wrong side of the bed),
roll over and escape the fire,
get to the door --
what you have long prayed for
and until now managed --
in that instant of not knowing
(but being pretty sure)
that you won't make it.
So then pictures take over,
relieve you of the worry --
the panic -- that you failed.
God gives you freedom instead
to see your children in the present
of the future -- that they are alright
(even if they won't be) without you:
healthy, content, happy,
with children of their own maybe,
themselves able to occupy space
in the present of the past
(with you there too perhaps)
for driving away the fear
of the eternal present
that dogs us unremittingly
even across generations.
Listen to the song,
and see if it doesn't do
for you what it did for me
and for Steve Marriott,
who, though he sang it
in the present of the past,
gifted it to the present
of the future, for us
as consolation in the present --
for as long as it might be
our destiny to abide in it,
awaiting our chance to do
something half as good
with the present of the past
as he was able to do it,
if only for someone you love
to cherish as a memento from
the present of your future
as you saw it in that moment
when, having fallen from the bed,
face to the wall, as Steve, you
were unable to reach the door.
In the event that there should be any reason for contacting me, feel free to do so at paulhunt@illinoisalumni.org
Otherwise, all the best for your future endeavors.
And thanks,
Paul