The Human Beast ● Volume One

This is where I admit to you that I sometimes scare myself. The term used to describe this album upon its initial release in 1970 was “electro-flagellation.” A little bit frightening, no? The Human Beast, a UK-based rock trio that produced one seven-song lp before disintegrating into the ashes of rock and roll’s never-never land, consists mostly of pyschedelic instrumental pieces that are loud, fuzzy and not the least bit angry. Bassist Ed Jones describes it this way: “The Beast WAS an extremely heavy band in real life… as we all thrashed away making a blistering, dense, defeaning racket enough to make sensitive ears bleed.” Recorded in one 12-hour session, Volume One is a frantic collection of Cream-like, Hendrix-inspired hard rock. It’s unpolished and raw, but its energy is undeniable. Is it any good? Apparently the band didn’t think so. “As for this album,” says drummer John Ramsay, “it makes me cringe.” I don’t know if I’d go that far, but what does it say when the best part of a record like this are the song titles? Who wouldn’t want to listen to “Appearance is Everything, Style is a Way of Living,” “Brush with the Midnight Butterfly,” “Reality Presented as an Alternative” and “Naked Breakfast?”

Notes: Sometimes it is a record’s accompanying press release that best describes a band. The original write-up summarizing The Human Beast is a good example: “They set fire to your soul, then turn your mind inside out so the wind can cool your brain.” I couldn’t have said it better myself.