It’s late, maybe two in the morning, and the world outside the narrow beam of my home audio setup is dark and quiet. I drop the needle, and for three minutes and fourteen seconds, the silence shatters. What bursts forth isn’t a garage band grunt or a Mod stomper; it’s a symphonic surge of absolute melodrama, anchored by a voice that sounds like a man wrestling a demon on a velvet stage. This is Chris Farlowe‘s “Out of Time,” and in 1966, it was a UK Number One single that still sounds like a magnificent, complicated accident of rock and roll history.
The song’s lineage is, of course, a crucial piece of music folklore. It was written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, appearing first on the UK version of The Rolling Stones’ Aftermath album. But where the Stones’ original is sprawling and somewhat laced with the psychedelic marimba experimentation characteristic of the period, Farlowe’s version, released on Andrew Loog Oldham’s Immediate label, is a laser-focused, blue-eyed soul missile.
Jagger himself took the production reins, reportedly seeing Farlowe—already a formidable figure in the British rhythm and blues circuit with his band The Thunderbirds—as the ideal conduit for the song’s scorned-lover narrative. This collaboration marked a pivotal, high-water mark in Farlowe’s career arc, cementing him as one of the era’s preeminent soul vocalists. It’s a moment where a great song found its truly great interpreter.
The Architecture of Drama: Strings, Snare, and Scorn
The arrangement is what sells the transformation. The track opens not with a guitar riff or drum kick, but with Arthur Greenslade’s dramatic, swirling string section. It’s a huge, cinematic gesture that immediately contrasts the raw energy of Farlowe’s vocal style. The strings provide an almost Bacharach-esque grandeur, elevating the song from a rock track into a full-blown orchestral soul epic.
The rhythm section, featuring what sources note as session veterans like Andy White on drums, is tight, driving, and relentlessly propulsive. The drums push the action forward with a snare that snaps with an almost military precision, cutting through the lush backdrop. Listen closely during the verses: the drumming is reserved, almost cautious, only to explode in the choruses with powerful, emotionally charged fills.
The core rhythm section is bolstered by a busy, walking bassline and a prominent piano that fills out the mid-range harmony. The keys don’t just play chords; they weave melodic flourishes, providing a rich, soulful texture that grounds the arrangement’s more extravagant ambitions. This is a sound engineered for maximum impact, demanding to be heard not just on a transistor radio, but across a packed dance floor.
Jimmy Page, still an in-demand session musician at the time, reportedly contributed acoustic guitar work to the backing track, a subtle layer that adds structural integrity without drawing attention to itself. This layered complexity, blending grit with polish, is the secret sauce of Immediate Records’ sound. It is a masterclass in how studio craft, guided by the vision of a producer like Jagger, could reshape a songwriter’s intent.
The Voice: A Cry from the Concrete Heart
Farlowe’s performance is nothing short of cathartic. His voice, naturally powerful and blues-inflected, finds an incredible emotional resonance in Jagger’s lyrics of belated regret and casual cruelty. He doesn’t just sing the words; he testifies, pouring forth a desperate conviction that the original version, delivered by Jagger’s more sneering, detached persona, simply didn’t contain.
The song’s central tension—the glamour of the orchestration against the raw, unvarnished heartache in Farlowe’s throat—is intoxicating. It’s the sound of blue-eyed soul at its apex, proving that emotional depth wasn’t exclusive to Muscle Shoals or Motown. His vocal runs, especially in the final act, are powerful, sustained high notes that stretch the very limits of the melodic line, showcasing a stunning, natural vibrato.
“The track felt like a moment of impossible artistic contrast: a soul-singer’s raw cry delivered with the polished sheen of a West End production.”
This sense of dramatic escalation is perfectly timed, building from a restrained, almost melancholic opening to a grand, screaming finale. The vocal delivery transforms the lyrical condescension into a genuine sense of being at a breaking point, a dramatic intensity that resonates with anyone who’s ever felt they’ve run out of time on a relationship.
The Legacy of the Masterpiece
“Out of Time” didn’t just top the UK charts; it soundtracked a cultural moment, reportedly reaching number one the week England won the World Cup in 1966. Its success paved the way for Farlowe’s third album, The Art of Chris Farlowe, where it was included later that year. For those studying the lineage of 1960s pop arrangement, especially those taking piano lessons who want to appreciate how keys integrate with strings, this recording is a foundational text. It shows how the same fundamental changes—often represented in sheet music as simple chord progressions—can be rendered with wildly different sonic personalities.
I often think about a young man in an apartment, listening to this track on his first set of premium audio speakers, the strings filling the small room, the bass vibrating through the floor. The music, in its scope and emotional sincerity, promises a grandeur that his life may not yet contain. It’s a song of disappointment, yes, but in Farlowe’s hands, it’s sung with such power that it ultimately feels like a triumph.
It reminds us that sometimes, the greatest recordings aren’t born of the writer, but of the singer who finds a deeper, more profound truth in the words they didn’t pen.
Listening Recommendations
- The Walker Brothers – “The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore”: Shares a similar quality of dramatic, Phil Spector-esque orchestral swell and intense vocal delivery from a blue-eyed soul singer.
- Love Affair – “Everlasting Love”: A classic of the era that similarly marries the raw power of UK pop-soul vocals with a lush, driving orchestral arrangement.
- Georgie Fame – “Yeh, Yeh”: Offers another example of a British singer channeling American soul and R&B with a punchy, driving rhythm section from the mid-sixties.
- The Merseys – “Sorrow”: Another Immediate Records hit that utilizes a big, sweeping sound, layering strings and brass over a gritty pop-rock foundation.
- The Small Faces – “All or Nothing”: Captures the same passionate, soaring vocal performance and Mod-era soul sensibility, though with less overt orchestration.
For those looking to understand the glorious sound of Swinging London’s soul contingent, there is no better starting point than this monumental recording.
Chris Farlowe – Out Of Time (1966)
This video provides the official audio for Chris Farlowe’s UK Number 1 hit, offering a chance to appreciate its dramatic instrumentation and powerful vocal performance.