"Agelast" marks one of the only times a Brugin-penned track breaks the first two songs of an album - To Live Without Repose excepted, of course. And what a treat it is.

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Admittedly, as a Brugin worshipper, I was beset by a twinge of disappointment when, about thirty or forty seconds into the song, I realized it was going to be in its entirety a proper rocker, not a bewitching hex cast upon my ears by the studio wizard known as post-Honesty Roger Brugin. Alas. The greatest oddity in the song was the curious pre-chorus of the lumbering piano/bass/guitar after each "Agelast" that sounds deliciously alien compared to the beauty that flanks it on either side. And this oddity is made even more jarringly creative due to the abrupt change from close-mic'd to room-mic'd drums, heralding in the tonal change of the chorus.

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But all the same, all things considered, Brugin wrote so few out-and-out rockers that its presence on this album, and this early in it, is a treat in and of itself. I can't quite put my ear on it, but something about Brugin's smooth timbre fits with mix of the ride-heavy cymbals so well, turning what would've been an aggressive mix into a "gentle broadside". And speaking of cymbals and drums...

This is truly a masterclass from Richard Frier. The man sits perfectly in the pocket. It's the sort of thing that is difficult to notice one a first listen-through, but I didn't know how right the man was when he said "drumming is the relationship between a song and its absence" [sic].

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In the staccato-laden sections of the verses and in the second chorus, the three lead singers shout as one impregnable voice. Against the jilting woman in the lyrics, the harmonies of the verses are embattling. In those of the second chorus, they are triumphant. Something about Brugin's softness, Davy's passion, and Martin's understated dryness works here, when it's a combination that you'd have to dig deep into your bag of knowledge of Plutos one-offs to find an example of.

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The lyrics themselves are curious not only because they hint at the presence of a deleterious romantic influence, but that influence had been directed towards an acquaintance of the singer. "Agelast" is a song of solidarity for the newly-single compatriot - almost possessively so. And the singer is all too happy to level parting shots at the back of the defeated rival.

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Now, the rare detractor of Brugin would point to the fact that the song is in Bb, and proudly tout that he only wrote songs in G - transposing the entire song afterwards if he foudn that the melody he had written didn't fit his range.

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To that I say: So? It's been fifty-five years. Live a little.

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★★★★☆