December 1966 wasn’t a normal month for pop. As Britain got ready to welcome another new year, the music scene felt like it was balancing on a thrilling edge — part beat, part blues, and part wild-eyed psychedelia. The singles released that month sounded like a country mid-shift, with every riff, sitar-like drone, and fuzzed-out chord leaning into what was coming next.
For me, this is how 1966 signed off — not with a whisper, but with a blaze of imagination.
Cream – “I Feel Free”
After the head-scratching debut of “Wrapping Paper,” Cream came back in December 1966 with something much closer to what people had been hoping for. Their second 45, “I Feel Free,” felt like a statement — bright, inventive, and packed with the chemistry of Eric Clapton, Jack Bruce, and Ginger Baker.
Disc critic Penny Valentine, who had “hated beyond words” the first single, was completely won over this time:
“This is a great record. Written by the group, it’s a striking experiment in ideas subtly worked on to prove conclusively that Cream will be 1967’s most interesting group.”
Flip it over to “N.S.U.” and you get that same punch and energy. “I Feel Free” climbed to No. 11 in Britain and stuck around for twelve weeks. In the U.S., it just missed the Hot 100 and stalled at No. 116 — but even so, it was obvious: Cream’s time was arriving.
The Jimi Hendrix Experience – “Hey Joe”
When Jimi Hendrix showed up in London in September 1966, hardly anyone knew what to make of him. By December, he was the name everyone was talking about. His debut single “Hey Joe,” recorded soon after he arrived, shocked just about everyone who heard it.
Even before it hit the shops, the British press was already fired up. Hendrix’s Soho club appearances were leaving people stunned — his presence, and the way he played, felt almost supernatural.
Disc magazine put it like this:
“Now Hendrix has literally exploded upon the pop scene in London. Hippie club dwellers and star artists alike are singing his praises… until you actually watch Jimi, you won’t really appreciate the experience.”
Penny Valentine was enthusiastic in her review of “Hey Joe” too:
“A great dirty slow sound with nice backing voice and some excellent guitar playing. I can see this version attracting a great deal of deserved attention.”
The B-side, “Stone Free,” was his own song, and it showed off his distinctive writing as well as his playing. “Hey Joe” reached No. 6 in the UK in early 1967 — and it became the spark that kicked off a revolution.
The Who – “Happy Jack”
If you want a single that captures The Who’s oddball brilliance, “Happy Jack” is hard to beat. Released in December 1966, it got instant praise from Disc’s Penny Valentine:
“A dear sort of song, and they do them very, very well. Pete Townshend is a modern-day Hans Christian Andersen. I love this record, which will undoubtedly be a gigantic hit.”
And she called it. It shot to No. 3 in Britain, hit No. 1 in Canada, and became their first Top 40 hit in the U.S., reaching No. 24.
On the flip side, “I’ve Been Away” delivered more of Townshend’s wit and charm. The Who ended 1966 in a perfect blur: part pop pranksters, part poets of suburbia.
Allen Pounds Get Rich – “Allen Pounds Get Rich”
One of December’s strangest (and most intriguing) releases came from Allen Pounds Get Rich — a single that sounded almost unbelievably ahead of its time.
It was crude, distorted, and excitingly rough around the edges, the kind of thing you could mistake for punk or post-punk from a decade later. But it didn’t get much backing: it received little promotion, earned only a small mention in Record Mirror, and disappeared fast.
Later on, collectors dug it back up on compilations of rare British 60s singles, and that feral charm finally found a new audience.
The Misunderstood – “I Can Take You to the Sun”
If any band summed up 1966’s push toward psychedelia, it was The Misunderstood. Formed in California and championed by John Peel (who found them while DJing in Los Angeles), they moved to Britain after he urged them to.
Their December single “I Can Take You to the Sun” mixed Eastern influences, steel guitar distortion, and a real sense of cosmic adventure. Record Mirror described it like this:
“Very way-out material. Freak-out in style with weirdly efficient singing and wailing instrumental sounds. A favourite outsider for the charts.”
A lot of that sound came from steel guitarist Glenn Ross Campbell, whose fuzz-heavy playing could rival Jeff Beck’s feedback experiments. But the band’s run ended far too quickly.
Frontman Rick Brown was drafted into the U.S. Army, ran to India to avoid the Vietnam War, and lived as a Hindu monk for twelve years. The rest of the group eventually had to leave Britain because of visa issues.
Years later, John Peel remembered them in unforgettable terms:
“If I had to list the ten greatest performances I’ve seen, one would be The Misunderstood at Pandora’s Box in 1966… ‘I Can Take You to the Sun’ is one of the great records of all time.”
The Move – “Night of Fear”
Before 1966 wrapped up, The Move fired off their debut single “Night of Fear.” They already had a reputation for chaotic stage behaviour — smashing televisions and cars at the Marquee Club — so expectations were high.
Melody Maker noted:
“A touch of the 1812 Overture… then The Move are off on a vast choral tale of how ‘Silent Night’ has turned to a ‘Night of Fear’. It doesn’t sound all that way-out for an avant-garde pop group.”
Not everyone agreed on what to make of it, but the public didn’t hesitate. “Night of Fear” reached No. 2 in the UK and stayed on the charts for ten weeks. The B-side, “Disturbance,” hinted even more strongly at their psychedelic side — a sound that would soon echo through Birmingham’s next generation, even influencing early Black Sabbath.
The Flies – “I’m Not Your Stepping Stone”
London band The Flies took “I’m Not Your Stepping Stone” and turned it into something nastier and louder — a fierce, fuzz-soaked makeover that feels like proto-punk.
Their slower, more aggressive approach got plenty of pirate radio play and climbed to No. 11 on the Radio London charts, even though it never broke through nationally.
That anarchic streak stuck with them too, especially after their notorious appearance at the 14-Hour Technicolor Dream in 1967, when they showered the crowd with exploding flour bags. The single went on to become a cult favourite and later popped up on multiple psychedelic compilations.
David Bowie – “The London Boys”
Long before Ziggy Stardust, David Bowie was telling Mod stories. “The London Boys,” originally the B-side to “Rubber Band,” is one of his most moving early songs: the story of a 17-year-old runaway caught up in the London Mod world.
“You’re only seventeen but you think you’ve grown,” Bowie sang — a line that nails both the glamour and the sadness of youth right on the edge. The track’s melancholy mood and social realism helped turn it into an underground classic.
Mojo later placed it at No. 91 in Bowie’s career, and it’s been covered by artists including The Times and Marc Almond.
The Mirage – “Tomorrow Never Knows”
Not many bands would even try covering The Beatles’ “Tomorrow Never Knows.” In 1966, The Mirage did.
They didn’t have Abbey Road’s studio wizardry, but they made up for it with strong harmonies and a trippy piano line. Instead of chasing it as a sound experiment, they leaned into a psychedelic pop approach — and the result is a surprisingly effective reinterpretation, even if it didn’t chart.
If nothing else, the sheer nerve earns them a spot in the story of 1966.
The N’Betweens – “You Better Run”
Before Slade took over the 1970s, they were The N’Betweens: a tough Birmingham R&B group with a big sound.
Produced by Kim Fowley (who had moved to London that year), their cover of The Young Rascals’ “You Better Run” showed the band’s early fire. On the B-side, “Evil Witch Man” pulled from Sam & Dave’s “I Take What I Want.”
It didn’t break nationally despite local attention, but the building blocks of Slade’s later swagger were already there.
The Freaks of Nature – “People Let’s Freak Out”
Kim Fowley also produced “People Let’s Freak Out” by The Freaks of Nature — actually The Belfast Gypsies under a different name.
Their garage-flavoured sound leaned toward American groups like The Seeds, especially on the B-side “The Shadow Chasers.”
Record Mirror summed it up neatly:
“Widely conceived, erratic and yet listenable.”
Like The N’Betweens, it didn’t chart. Still, it captures that brief, brilliant burst of freakbeat experimentation that made 1966 feel so electric.
Herbal Mixture – “Machines” / “Please Leave My Mind”
Led by Tony McPhee (later of The Groundhogs), Herbal Mixture released their second — and final — single in December 1966.
Record Mirror liked the “good bluesy sounds,” but warned it “may get lost.” Unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened. The B-side, “Please Leave My Mind,” was another gritty little gem that deserved more attention.
Both singles flopped, but McPhee’s grounded songwriting would soon land in a bigger spotlight during the blues-rock boom.
The Pretty Things – “Progress”
For The Pretty Things, 1966 was messy and transitional. They’d once been Britain’s dirtiest R&B band, and now they were trying to move forward. “Progress” pushed them toward a more soulful direction, though some critics weren’t convinced.
Melody Maker wrote:
“Ever since Viv Prince left, the Pretties seem to have lost some of their impetus… but this is a competent catchy performance and a good production.”
It didn’t chart — but it pointed toward the creative jump they’d make with S.F. Sorrow two years later.
The Year Closes
December 1966 brought down the curtain on one of the most imaginative years British pop had ever seen. From Cream finding their footing to Hendrix arriving like a storm, from The Move’s theatrical mayhem to Bowie’s quiet, cutting storytelling, these singles weren’t just releases — they were signposts.
1967 would burst into full psychedelic colour soon enough. But it was December 1966 that struck the match.
