Eric Burdon looked like he wanted to fight the audience. Most of the mid-60s British bands were busy acting like charming schoolboys in matching suits, but The Animals were different. They were from Newcastle. They were dirty, loud, and obsessed with the blues in a way that felt almost dangerous. They didn't just play "The House of the Rising Sun"—they dragged it out of the gutter and turned it into a haunting, folk-rock masterpiece that changed the trajectory of popular music forever. Honestly, if you think the British Invasion was all about mop-tops and "yeah, yeah, yeah," you're missing the most interesting part of the story.
The Animals were the bridge between the polite pop of the early sixties and the heavy, psychedelic, and socially conscious rock that followed. They were basically the working-class soul of the era.
The Newcastle Sound: Not Your Average Boy Band
Most people forget that The Animals didn't start in London. That's a huge detail. They came from a coal-mining and shipbuilding hub in the North East of England. This gave them a chip on their shoulder. While the Beatles were singing about holding hands, Eric Burdon, Alan Price, Hilton Valentine, Chas Chandler, and John Steel were deeply entrenched in the Club A'Gogo, playing Ray Charles and Jimmy Reed covers to sweaty crowds.
They were loud.
They were remarkably proficient musicians, too. Alan Price’s organ playing wasn’t just accompaniment; it was the lead voice half the time. He played with a jazz-inflected urgency that nobody else in rock was touching in 1963. When they finally moved to London and hooked up with producer Mickie Most, the friction was immediate. Most wanted hits. The band wanted to be the most authentic blues outfit on the planet.
That tension is what made their early records so explosive. You’ve got this raw, howling vocal from Burdon—who sounded like a forty-year-old sharecropper despite being a skinny kid from Newcastle—pushed through the filter of pop production. It shouldn't have worked. It worked perfectly.
That One Song (And Why It Almost Didn't Happen)
We have to talk about "The House of the Rising Sun." It’s the law.
Before 1964, the song was an old folk standard, often sung from a female perspective about a life gone wrong in a New Orleans brothel. Joan Baez sang it. Bob Dylan sang it on his debut album. But The Animals did something weird. They recorded it in just one take during a tour with Chuck Berry.
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Hilton Valentine’s opening arpeggio—that A minor chord that every guitar student learns in their first week—wasn't just a hook. It was a warning. It set a mood of total dread. The legend goes that they chose to record it because they wanted something different to play on the Chuck Berry tour so they wouldn't just be another R&B band.
Mickie Most allegedly hated the idea of a four-minute single. In 1964, radio didn't play four-minute songs. They played two-minute songs. But the band insisted. It hit number one in the UK and the US, effectively ending the era where folk music was just for coffee houses and proving that rock could be "serious."
The Fallout of Success
Success kinda ruined them. Or at least, it broke the original lineup. Alan Price left the band in 1965, officially citing a fear of flying, but the reality was more about the "Rising Sun" royalties. Because it was an "arranged" traditional song, only the person credited with the arrangement got the songwriter royalties. That person was Price. The rest of the band, who had collectively shaped that iconic sound, got nothing. It’s a classic, depressing music business story.
The band kept going, though. They churned out massive hits like "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" and "We Gotta Get Out of This Place." The latter became an unofficial anthem for soldiers in the Vietnam War. Think about that for a second. A group of guys from Newcastle wrote a song that resonated so deeply with Americans in a jungle halfway across the world that it became a literal survival hymn.
The Shift to Psychedelia and Eric Burdon’s Reinvention
By 1967, the original group was basically toast. But Eric Burdon wasn't done. He moved to California, embraced the "Summer of Love," and rebranded the group as Eric Burdon & The Animals.
This era is polarizing. Some fans hate it. Some love it.
Songs like "San Franciscan Nights" and "Sky Pilot" are a far cry from the gritty blues of their early days. They became experimental. They used strings, sound effects, and long, rambling lyrics about the changing world. Burdon was one of the few British stars who actually "got" what was happening in the US counterculture. He wasn't just a visitor; he was part of it. He was there when Jimi Hendrix played his final jam session at Ronnie Scott’s.
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Chas Chandler, the band's original bassist, actually became the guy who "discovered" Hendrix and brought him to London. Without The Animals, we might never have had the Jimi Hendrix Experience. That's a massive piece of rock history that often gets relegated to a footnote.
Why They Get Overlooked Today
It's strange. You hear The Beatles, The Stones, and The Who on classic rock radio constantly. You hear The Animals too, but usually just the same two songs. They don't seem to have the same "mythology" as the others.
Maybe it’s because they didn't have a stable lineup. Maybe it’s because they were too rooted in the blues to be "pop" but too popular to be "indie." Or maybe it's because their best work is so raw it's actually uncomfortable to listen to in a sterilized modern environment.
Burdon’s voice hasn't aged a day in terms of its power. When you listen to "It's My Life," you aren't hearing a teen idol. You're hearing a man demanding agency in a world that wants to crush him. That’s a universal feeling. It's why their music still shows up in movies by Scorsese or Tarantino. It has a cinematic, dangerous quality.
The Misconception of "Blue-Eyed Soul"
People often lump them in with "blue-eyed soul" acts, but that feels a bit reductive. The Animals weren't imitating Black American artists as a gimmick. They were obsessed with the technicality and the emotion of the music. They understood the sorrow.
- They prioritized the Hammond organ when everyone else was focused on lead guitar.
- They used odd time signatures and atmospheric breaks before "progressive rock" was even a term.
- Their lyrics often dealt with class struggle and the desire to escape—themes that were much grittier than the standard "I love you" tropes of the time.
What You Should Listen To (Beyond the Hits)
If you really want to understand why this band matters, you have to dig past the Greatest Hits collections.
Check out "Inside-Looking Out." It’s a relentless, driving track with a heavy riff that feels like a precursor to Black Sabbath. The drums are punishing. The harmonica is frantic. It sounds like a prison break.
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Then there's "I'm Crying," one of the few hits actually written by Burdon and Price. It shows they had the songwriting chops to compete with the Lennon-McCartney machine if they had stayed together long enough to develop it.
The Legacy of the "Bad Boys"
The Animals were the first real "bad boys" of the British Invasion. Before the Stones really leaned into their "satanic majesties" persona, The Animals were already looking disheveled and acting surly in interviews. They paved the way for the grit of the 70s.
They were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1994, but the ceremony was awkward because of the long-standing legal feuds between members. It was a fittingly messy end for a messy, brilliant band.
Today, Eric Burdon is still out there, his voice deeper and more gravelly, still carrying the torch for the blues. He’s one of the last true survivors of that era who hasn't become a parody of himself.
Getting Into The Animals: A Practical Roadmap
If you're looking to actually explore their catalog properly, don't just shuffle a random playlist. The transitions in their sound are too jarring for that.
- Start with the 1964-1965 UK EPs. This is the purest distillation of their R&B sound. It’s tight, professional, and incredibly soulful.
- Listen to the album 'Animalisms' (1966). This is widely considered their best studio effort. It’s got "One Monkey Don't Stop No Show" and "Squeeze Her, Tease Her." The musicianship here is peak.
- Transition to the 'Winds of Change' (1967) album. This is where things get weird. It's the birth of the "New Animals." It’s psychedelic, sprawling, and very "California."
- Watch their live performances on 'Ready Steady Go!' Seeing them in black and white, Eric Burdon vibrating with nervous energy, gives you a much better sense of their power than the studio recordings ever could.
The real value in The Animals isn't just nostalgia. It’s the reminder that rock music, at its best, comes from a place of genuine frustration and a desperate need to say something. They weren't polished. They weren't always nice. But they were undeniably real. In a world of curated digital perfection, that 1964 growl is exactly what we need.
Actionable Insights for Music Lovers:
To truly appreciate the influence of The Animals, compare the bass lines in "We Gotta Get Out of This Place" to early punk and new wave records from the late 70s. You'll hear the direct DNA of the "angry young man" sound. If you’re a musician, study Alan Price’s use of the Vox Continental organ; it’s a masterclass in how to provide texture without over-playing. Finally, look for the 2013 remastered versions of their catalog, as the original 60s pressings often suffered from "thin" audio that didn't capture the actual heaviness of their live sound.