From Ian McLagan’s web site:
It is with great sadness and eternal admiration that we report the passing of rock and roll icon Ian McLagan. Ian was a member of The Small Faces and Faces and was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2012. He died today, December 3, 2014, surrounded by family and friends in his adopted hometown of Austin, TX, due to complications from a stroke suffered the previous day. He was 69 years old. His manager Ken Kushnick says, “He was a beloved friend to so many people and a true rock n roll spirit. His persona and gift of song impacted the music across oceans and generations.” Ian’s bandmate in Small Faces and Faces, Kenney Jones said, “I am completely devastated by this shocking news and I know this goes for Ronnie and Rod also.”
Ian’s artistry, generosity and warmth of spirit touched countless other musicians and music fans around the world. His loss will be felt by so many. Ian was scheduled to begin a North American tour today, opening for labelmate Nick Lowe.
Here is Paul’s contribution to the liner notes for “Five Guys Walk Into A Bar…”, the 2004 Faces box set:
Jagger held you in his hands. Picking up A Nod Is As Good As A Wink . . . To A Blind Horse, you held them in yours: lovable, scruffy Faces. I’ve heard the term “rude” used, but not by my standards. Get in, sit down, get up, get out-Ladies & Gentlemen, that’s rock ‘n’ roll. Masterfully recorded. Perfect amount of reverb. Crank it up. Put on “Rocks Off,” then “Miss Judy’s Farm.” One sticks its tongue out at you, while the other kicks you up the ass. Back when drums meant beat, not snare with a capital S.
There’s minstrel slides and pianos; beautiful ballads too. Rockers never heavy or plodding, ever-swinging thanks to Mr. Jones. Rod’s voice breaks on the word “trying” and “That’s All You Need”-Woody’s showpiece. Ronnie makes sure the songs are wistful, Stewart and Wood making sure they’re mighty. Mac on keyboards shares with us what he already knows: He’s the shit. No elves or fairies or misty buckskin rubbish. Not glam but pub rock with flash.
Try as I might to have made the ‘Mats in their image, we were just too damn angry. Faces-that’s my band. They had fun. Humor. Stewart bellows in velvet. Jones pounds and thumps. Wood explodes almost in time. Lane grins then confesses, plays low. McLagan boogies, tinkles, and drinks. One of a kind they were. They make The Beatles sound like The Fleetwoods. Tragedy. They make Led Zeppelin sound like a riff machine. Pink Floyd? Please. And the Stones? Well, smack never had this much fun. No Bogus mojo hokum. London’s loud, lean, laughin’ louts.
I’ll never forget seeing the Faces. We were at the back of the auditorium, and they kicked into “Miss Judy’s Farm,” and me and my friend were crushed up two-deep in front of the stage before the guitar break. With a completely strange 15-year-old girl on my shoulders, taking slugs off a passing bottle, the back of my uncool green windbreaker became ever so warm and moist. I was in heaven.
Two things emanated from that stage to date: The loudest fucking band I’ve ever heard, and the strange sense of community. Aw, hell, man, it was love. Hey, what’s your name again? Nod captured this feeling and never let go.
McLagan played on 14 Songs, on “Silver Naked Ladies” and “First Glimmer.” And in his book “All the Rage: My High Life with The Small Faces, The Faces, The Rolling Stones and Many More”, he also described meeting the Mats in 1990 when they were playing in Hollywood: “They were frightening, but great, and I could see why people loved them”.