The "I-Own-Every-Record-You'd-Never-Buy" CD Consumer's Guide

Cottonwood ● Camaraderie

2012-01-12T17:15:00.043-05:00

You know you're a strong candidate for The "I-Own-Every-Record-You'd-Never-Buy" CD Consumer's Guide when your lead singer dies on the day of your album's release. It's this tragic piece of bad luck that apparently derailed Cottonwood, a country-flavored rock quintet from California. The details are fuzzy--time, age and an assortment of narcotic substances usually have that affect on most early '70s rock-related drug deaths--but legend has it the band's vocalist overdosed on the same day Camaraderie hit stores. Whatever label support the band had quickly evaporated and Cottonwood disappeared forever. Assembled by former Love guitarist Gary Knowles, Cottonwood released its lone album--a pleasant collection of largely acoustic-based pop rock--in 1971 on ABC Records. "Cottonwood" and "Thank You Mr. Man" best represent the group's mellow, harmony-laced sound, while "Passin' Through" and "Red" provide a much-needed shot of hard-rock guitar. The band stumbles through a couple of maudlin ballads ("In My Life" is particularly inept), but they are the exception to an otherwise rewarding set of turn-of-the-decade rural rock. The end was abrupt, of course, and the sad set of circumstances surrounding the band's demise comes with a strange, almost eerie twist; Camaraderie's front cover suggests these guys were having the time of their lives.

Thunder and Roses ● King of the Black Sunrise

2011-07-20T16:29:00.020-04:00

First released in 1969 on United Artists Records, Philadelphia-based Thunder and Roses' biggest claim to fame is oddly tied to the grunge rock movement of the early '90s. Despite its not entirely undeserved cut-out bin status, King of the Black Sunrise somehow found its way into the hands of Nirvana's Kurt Cobain, who convinced his bandmates to cover the song "White Lace and Strange" (the previously unreleased track appears on Nirvana's 1994 With the Lights Out box set). It turns out that Cobain had good taste; "White Lace and Strange" is the best song on the album. Not far removed from the loud, pulverizing metal Blue Cheer was exploring--a band then riding high with its almost unrecognizable version of Eddie Cochran's "Summertime Blues"--King of the Black Sunrise shifts somewhat aimlessly between blues-based hard rock ("I Love a Woman," "Moon Child"), acoustic-flavored country pop ("Country Life") and extended psychedelic jams ("Open Your Up Your Eyes"). The band also offers up a serviceable if not particularly memorable cover Jimi Hendrix's "Red House." Thunder and Roses' career was even shorter than the grunge movement--this was the trio's only album--and is probably best left to Nirvana completists, record collectors and music bloggers (that's me and, yes, I do own a copy). King of the Black Sunrise was reissued on cd in 2011 courtesy of Kismet Records.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of "White Lace and Strange" by Thunder and Roses: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aUfrlsDeFuk.

Tonton Macoute

2011-07-14T08:30:00.017-04:00

According to Haitian Creole mythology, Tonton Macoute is a boogeyman, an urban legend used to scare children. This centuries-old myth became a reality in 1959, however, when Haitian dictator Francois Duvalier created a paramilitary outfit called the Militia of National Security Volunteers, also known as Tonton Macoutes. Instead of frightening misbehaving youths, these Tonton Macoutes terrorized a nation. What does all this have to do with an early ‘70s British jazz-rock ensemble? Well, outside of a shared name, not much. In fact, Tonton Macoute’s self-titled debut, first released in 1971 on the short-lived Neon label, is anything but scary. A largely instrumental collection of jazz-styled prog-rock, this seven-song lp features plenty of horn breaks—the saxophone is particularly prevalent—and the Holy Trinity of progressive-influenced hard rock: Multiple time changes, complex rhythmic patterns and extended song structures. Sadly, the band's challenging, more complicated numbers--"Don't Make Me Cry," "Just Like a Stone" and "Flying South in Winter" among them--failed to find an audience and the group dissolved within a year. The label followed suit; Neon Records shut its doors in 1972.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of “Don’t Make Me Cry” by Tonton Macoute: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3IuZGwBts78.

Jump

2011-06-21T08:30:00.015-04:00

Despite evidence to the contrary--an oversized platform shoe on the front cover, a blatantly misspelled song title--Jump's self-titled debut is most definitely not a glam record. First released in 1971 on Janus Records, this Los Angeles-based quartet's lone lp is actually prototypical stoner rock, a big, lumbering slab of organ-heavy hard rock. "Love Wit Chu Mama" kicks things off (the nod to the spell-checked challenged Slade is obvious) and ultimately establishes the framework on which the rest of the album is built--heavy guitar riffs entangled with a series of pounding keyboard fills buttressed by gruff, smokey vocals. "Close as Touch" and "Enough of This Circus" are like-minded numbers--heavy on the crunch and relatively short on creativity--while both "Having a Wonderful Time" and "Life, Leave Us Part as Friends" attempt, with mixed results, at revealing the band's more sensitive side. Strangely, the album's best moment is the straight ahead, more pop-oriented "Here I Lie with You." It's this song that effectively blends together both of the band's personalities with just the right mix of acoustic guitar and hard rock harmony and hints at what might have been. What was was a quick trip to the cut-out bin and a long, inevitable journey to The "I-Own-Every-Record-You'd-Never-Buy" CD Consumer's Guide. Jump was done by the end of the year, another oversized platform shoe buried in the attic of rock and roll's ever-expanding lost and found.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of Jump's "Love Wit Chu Mama:" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u4wLCs0qaN4.

Isotope

2011-06-01T11:12:00.006-04:00

The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide has recently developed a somewhat strange fascination with progressive-influenced jazz fusion. Strange, I know. I usually like my rock and roll with a healthy dose of lyrical content. Lyrics certainly aren’t at the forefront of guitarist Gary Boyle’s Isotope, a three-record band from the UK's then-burgeoning Canterbury scene. The quartet’s self-titled debut, first released in 1974 on Gull Records, eschews words for a series of intricate jazz-flavored instrumentals. Armed with a serious set of musical chops—and a band name only a ‘70s mother could love—Isotope is more jazz than rock, its songs highlighted by a complex series of guitar and keyboard exchanges. The frantically-paced “Then There Were Four” is a brilliant opener, while both “Oh Little Fat Man” and “Honkey Donkey” further flex the band’s musical muscle. Acutely aware that speed kills, the band slows it down for a couple of sensitive ballads, including “Sunshine Park” and “Windmills and Waterfalls,” two brief but effective tracks. Isotope wasn’t a huge commercial success, but it does represent one of the genre’s more interesting efforts. Two more records followed—1975’s Illusion and Deep End from 1976—before Boyle split to pursue a solo career.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of “Then There Were Four” by Isotope: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5kdmuDmfMKg.

Home ● Pause for a Hoarse Horse

2011-05-20T11:17:00.019-04:00

This album is called Pause for a Hoarse Horse, a strange, truly awkward title that almost immediately qualifies it for The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide. It gets better. Despite three record’s worth of commercial failure, including a somewhat strange concept album called The Alchemist, and a sound rooted in both acoustic-flavored country rock and progressive-tinged pyschedelia, Home managed to produce not one but two musicians who found fame and fortune elsewhere. First released in 1971 on CBS Records, Home’s debut is an interesting combination of US-influenced west coast pop and UK-based hard rock. Songs like "Tramp," "How Would It Feel" and "Mother" accentuate the band's finerpoints--strong vocal harmonies, impressive lead guitar fills and intricate song structures--while the title track briefly explains the somewhat morbid cover art: "Goodbye horse/you know you served us well/right to the end/we'll have to find another friend." The band called it quits in 1973, but that was hardly the end of the story. Guitarist Laurie Wisefield joined Wishbone Ash, a group for which he played with until 1985, while bassist Cliff Williams found himself down under in Australia; he’s been the bass player for AC/DC since 1978.

Notes: Third time lucky: In between his stint in Home and his success in AC/DC, Cliff Williams played with another obscure rock bandt called Bandit. They released two albums between 1976 and 1978, including a record called Partners in Crime. Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of Home’s “Tramp:” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KWZIP9dlx5I.

The Dukes

2011-05-01T10:42:00.026-04:00

I really shouldn’t like this record. On the surface, The Dukes, first released in 1979 on Warner Bros. Records, is one of those sterile studio projects, an innocuous collection of B-grade guitar rock. Originally assembled as a super group of sorts, the band featured two obscure but formidable guitarists, axe men whose lengthy career resumes would assuredly guarantee them a job here at The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide. Anderson Miller played with the Keef Hartley Band before stints in short-lived projects like Hemlock and Dog Soldier, while Jimmy McCulloch made a name for himself in Thunderclap Newman before scoring big with Paul McCartney’s Wings. Despite the band’s pedigree, The Dukes was a critical and commercial dud, which makes my admiration for this record all the more confusing. Songs like “Hearts in Trouble,” “Leaving it All Behind” and “Who’s Gonna Tell You” have Top 40 hit written all over them, while “Time On Your Side” and “I’ll Try to Help” feature some impressive, interestingly intricate vocal harmonies. Top that off with “Heartbreaker,” McCulloch’s lone contribution and the record’s one true hard rock moment, and you’ve got yourself a catchy if not entirely hip platter of late ‘70s-era pop rock. The Dukes disappeared in a flash, of course, most likely because of the unexpected death of Jimmy McCulloch. He died of a drug overdose on September 27, 1979, at the age of just 26.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of "Heartbreaker" by The Dukes: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RLSqWudvIpY.

Dog Soldier

2011-04-14T12:55:00.018-04:00

First released in 1975 on United Artists Records, Dog Soldier marked a reunion of sorts for drummer Keef Hartley and guitarist Miller Anderson. The two had spent the better part of four years recording and touring as the Keef Hartley Band before the inevitable quest for solo stardom took hold. Stripping the jazz-rock tendencies of its predecessor, Dog Soldier aims for a more conventional sound, the inventive horn breaks replaced by a less interesting combination of guitar and keyboard interplay. "Looks Like Rain" is the album's most adventurous moment, a lengthy progressive-tinged number featuring some impressive guitar work from Anderson, who also provides lead vocals. "Stranger in My Own Time" is a mellow rhythm and blues track, a nod perhaps to the aforementioned Keef Hartley Band, but the remaining six song epitomize the facelessness of mid-'70s corporate rock. "Give as Good as You Get" and "Thieves and Robbers" are largely forgettable, while "You Are My Spark" is anything but. It didn't much matter, of course. Internal struggles caused the band to self-implode within months of the album's release and Dog Soldier was no more. Anderson eventually joined forces with guitarist Jimmy McCulloch (Thunderclap Newman, Wings) in a short-lived project called The Dukes.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of Dog Soldier's "Looks Like Rain:" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sb6TLfpr1Og.

The Leaves ● All the Good That's Happening

2011-04-02T11:47:00.016-04:00

The story of the Leaves is a cautionary one, a tale of minor label success and major label disappointment. The band was signed to tiny Mira Records when its version of "Hey Joe" cracked the Billboard Top 40—this was just prior to the Jimi Hendrix version of the song—and Capitol Records wasted little time in adding the California-based quartet to its roster. Sadly, by the time of All the Good That's Happening's 1967 release, the Leaves had all but dissolved, the band's lone hit relegated to garage-rock collector status. That the group's only major label release failed to score commercially is hardly a surprise. Aside from a couple of impressive mid-tempo rockers in "Twilight Sanctuary" and "One in the Middle," All the Good That's Happening is a relatively mediocre collection of watered-down folk-rock and aimless psychedelic pop. The severely dated "Lemmon Princess" represents the band at its worst—inexplicable lyrics strewn over a backdrop of harpsichord and unusual vocal effects—and although a couple of cover songs hold up well (Donovan's "To Try for the Sun" is pleasant enough), the album as a whole is a largely uninspired affair. In the end, some good did happen: Bassist Jim Pons hooked up with the Turtles before joining Frank Zappa's Mothers of Invention, while guitarist Bobby Arlin formed an obscure two-record band called the Hook.

Notes: Check out the band's version of "Hey Joe" here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XNmu3z8XEzw.

Troyka

2011-03-21T10:30:00.007-04:00

This band has a song called “Rub-a-Dub-Dub Troyka in a Tub,” which lends credence to Richie Unterberger’s assessment that Troyka is a parody of some sort, a goof on psychedelic hard rock as it existed at the turn of the decade. Unterberger, writing for allmusic.com, has this to say in regards to the trio’s self-titled debut: “… you wonder if Troyka was a real group or one just thrown together as a tax loss and/or a joke… Most of the tracks are not so much conventional songs as basic riffs with some doofus-sounding (and improvised-sounding) vocals…” First released in 1970 on Cotillion Records, Troyka is an odd combination of driving guitar riffs, punishing rhythmic patterns and bizarre, almost comical vocals. If you can get past the ridiculousness of what qualifies as singing, Troyka on occasion rocks hard. “Natural” and “Burning of the Witch” would sit well on the shelf of any hard rock enthusiast, while both “Early Morning” and “Life's O.K.” are fairly adventurous instrumental pieces. Perhaps a more serious approach—or at least a legitimate lead singer—would have extended the band’s career. It didn’t turn out that way, of course, and Troyka quickly became one of the stranger lost artifacts from the psychedelic era. File under: “Doofus-sounding.”

Notes: Here is a song called "Burning of the Witch" by Troyka: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHTaPr_SxhI&feature=related.

Mighty Grahame Bond

2011-03-10T09:10:00.005-05:00

Mighty Grahame Bond is a fairly innocuous collection of psychedelic hard rock and jazz-influenced rhythm and blues. What makes it such an appealing candidate for The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide—outside of the fact that you’ve never heard of it—is the fact that Bond’s first name is misspelled; Graham doesn’t have an “e” at the end of it. Oops. Bond got his start as the leader of the Graham Bond Organization, a two-record band that coughed up both Ginger Baker and Jack Bruce to Cream. He eventually dissolved the group and signed with Pulsar Records for two solo albums, the second of which is represented here. “Water Water” is an effective opener, Bond’s rough, unpolished vocals offset by his trademark keyboard work, and while “Baroque” and “Freaky Beak” are respectable slices of ‘70s-era pop rock, the remaining tracks sound like a hastily assembled set of largely instrumental compositions (this probably has to do with the fact that the entire album was recorded in a mere 15 hours). Bond eventually recorded a couple of solo albums for Vertigo before teaming up with Cream lyricist Pete Brown to record the lp Two Heads Are Better Than One. Coda: Drugs, financial struggles, deteriorating mental health and a burgeoning interest in the occult culminated in Bond’s suicide in May of 1974. He was 36 years old.

Notes: From 1969, here is an audio-only YouTube clip of a song called “Water Water” from Mighty Grahame Bond: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cf6pepysYYo.

Gilgamesh

2011-02-24T08:49:00.002-05:00

Gilgamesh took its name from a legendary Sumerian king, a poetic figure from early Mesopotamian literature. I’m not sure how such heroic imagery translates to a children’s board game, but a rock and roll parody of Chutes and Ladders became the front cover for this UK-based quartet’s self-titled debut. First released in 1975 on Caroline Records, a subsidiary of Virgin, Gilgamesh is an intricate collection of progressive jazz fusion. The group’s instrumental passages are succeeded in length only by its song titles, which include “One End More/Phil’s Little Dance-For Phil Miller’s Trousers/Worlds of Zin,” “Island of Rhodes/Paper Boat for Doris/As if Your Eyes Were Open” and “We Are All/Someone Else’s Food/Jamo and Other Boating Disasters (From the Holiday of the Same Name).” Whew. Like many of the era’s complicated jazz-related projects, the musicianship on Gilgamesh is impressive. Alan Gowen’s keyboard work highlights the proceedings, although Phil Lee’s contributions on guitar are just as revelatory. “For Absent Friends” and “Just C” are two of the record’s shorter songs—in both time and title—while “Notwithstanding” and “Lady and Friend” are slightly longer, more complex numbers. Though a skillful set, Gilgamesh was a commercial disappointment. The band took a brief hiatus before releasing a second and final lp called Another Fine Tune You’ve Got Me Into (1978).

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of “Notwithstanding” from Gilgamesh: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_SBr_oaZaQ.

The Yellow Payges ● Volume 1

2011-02-01T09:16:00.005-05:00

The Yellow Payges’ “The Two of Us” just might be one of the great lost songs of the psychedelic era. That’s saying something when you consider the band responsible for such a memorable track once participated in a promotional campaign with AT&T (photograph yourself knee-deep in a pile of phone books and suffer the consequences). Volume 1, first released in 1969 on UNI Records, is an impressive mix of heavy garage rock and mellow psychedelic pop. The aforementioned “The Two of Us” is the album’s best track, a blistering three minutes of late ‘60s fuzz guitar and gnarling vocals, while “Little Woman” “Crowd Pleaser” and “Devil Woman”—loud, aggressive and at complete odds with the band’s somewhat jokey band name—all deliver a double shot of hard rock heaviness. The group’s more pop-oriented influences are heard on songs like “Friends,” “Never Put Away My Love” and “Moonfire,” the latter eventually gaining release as a single. Selling out wasn’t cool back in 1969 and the quartet’s relationship with corporate America—a phone company no less—spelled the end of the Yellow Payges. The band recorded several unreleased songs for a second lp before calling it quits.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of “The Two of Us” by the Yellow Payges: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_-cBL-8ilU&feature=related. Also, if you want to learn more about the Yellow Payges—and I do mean more—check out this lengthy biography at http://www.60sgaragebands.com/bandbios.html.

The Dog That Bit People

2011-01-18T09:52:00.004-05:00

Original copies of this album reportedly sell for some $750. I’m not sure the music itself is worth that much, but an absurd moniker like The Dog That Bit People has to be worth something. Formed from the remnants of the more sensibly yet less creatively named Locomotive, this UK-based quartet’s self-titled debut was first released in 1971 on Parlophone Records. Veering away from the psychedelic sounds of its predecessor, The Dog That Bit People plays an acoustic-flavored brand of progressive-influenced hard rock. The album’s overall vibe is decidedly relaxed—“Lovely Lady” and “Walking” are particularly mellow—but the band isn’t afraid to flex its muscle. “The Monkey and the Sailor,” “Sound of Thunder” and “Red Queen’s Dance” feature plenty of fluid guitar leads and a thunderous rhythm section, while the distorted vocals and sinister lyrics in “Reptile Man” give the album its darkest, most aggressive moment: “Scaly skin and yellow teeth with hair down to his toes/creeping through the slime/its reptile man.” The Dog That Bit People was a commercial disappointment and the group disbanded. Sadly, this wasn’t the only Locomotive-related project to fall through the cracks; keyboardist Norman Haines Band’s Den of Inequity suffered a similar fate when it was released that same year.

Notes: The Dog That Bit People actually took its name from a short story by American author James Thurber. Here an audio-only YouTube clip of “Reptile Man” from the band’s self-titled debut: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHK-P_rEzak&feature=related (look carefully under the comments section and you’ll see several postings from John Caswell, the band’s original guitar player).

Mutzie ● Light of Your Shadow

2011-01-03T08:59:00.006-05:00

Mutzie was the nickname given to Eric Levenberg, guitarist, lead singer and elder brother of three for whom this Michigan-based quartet is named. It’s a strange moniker, of course, but I suppose it’s better than calling your band Levenberg. Mutzie’s lone album, 1970’s Light of Your Shadow, first released on the Sussex label, is hard rock of the blue-collar variety, a raw, stripped down combination of heavy guitar riffs, pounding organ fills, punchy horn breaks and not always in tune lead vocals. The end result is an uneven platter of slightly funky blues-based acid rock. “The Game” and “Daily Cycle” prominently feature Levenberg’s guitar work, and both “Highway” and “Jessie Fly” effectively incorporate the group's subtle use of woodwind instrumentation. Conversely, “Cocaine Blues” is about as boring as any other ‘70s rock song with “blues” in the title, while the ridiculously titled “Light of Your Shadow: The Inception (Including the Transition) and The Consummation (Including the Judgment)” captures the over-indulgent bloat of an entire decade’s worth of progressive-influenced rock music in just two parts. Mutzie garnered a fair bit of attention on Detroit’s live circuit—the group reportedly shared the stage with the likes of the Allman Brothers Band, Alice Cooper and Johnny Winter—but the band’s unpolished lp tanked commercially and the group dissolved within the year.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of “Highway” by Mutzie: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6rowugs6PUQ.

Morly Grey ● The Only Truth

2010-12-17T09:02:00.003-05:00

The Only Truth is a true rock and roll rarity. First released in 1972, Morly Grey’s lone recorded output represents the first and only album ever released on Starshine Records, a small, Ohio-based label founded by Floyd Phillips. The company—also responsible for a handful of singles from the likes of Biggy Rat, Freeman Sound, and Stars and Stripes—was ill-equipped to support a local act looking to break nationally, and The Only Truth’s collectable status was almost immediate. Formed by Mark and Tim Roller (a rock and roll surname of the highest order), Morly Grey delivers an electrifying brand of psychedelic hard rock. The group, which also includes two different drummers, powers its way through eight heavy rockers, all built around the guitar work of brother Tim. “Peace Officer,” “Our Time” and “After Me Again” are the record’s highlights, the latter showcasing effective vocal harmonies amidst the instrumental chaos, while “Who Can I Say You Are” and “A Feeling for You” reveal a softer, more melodic approach (at least temporarily). The album closes with the nearly 17-minute title track, which includes a snippet of “When Johnny Comes Marching Home,” a fairly obvious reference to the war in Vietnam. The album’s artwork is lame (“It is what it is,” says brother Mark), but the musical contents contained within reveal a group that probably deserved better.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of “After Me Again” by Morly Grey: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHjLFR5VtJA&list=MLGxdCwVVULXcle5h1VkJc4tguM-w_J1UG&playnext=4.

Capital City Rockets

2010-12-02T09:04:00.003-05:00

Music critic Joe Viglione has this to say in regards to the photograph that appears on the back cover of the Capital City Rockets’ self-titled debut: “The band is literally so ugly looking that the label opted to put a colorful yellow, pink, green, and orange on black album cover together with a rocket and stars bursting out of the lettering.” Martin Popoff, in his The Collector’s Guide to Heavy Metal, Volume I: The Seventies, avoids commenting on the band’s less than savory facial features, but describes the record itself as an “abomination.” Ouch. This sounds like a job for The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide. First released in 1973 on Elektra Records, Capital City Rockets is a generic slab of guitar-driven hard rock. The album is poorly recorded, the playing mediocre and the lyrics downright sleazy—“Ten hole dollars for an hour of your time” is only slightly less offensive than “If you spend all my money on a new fur coat/You might find an orange tie wrapped around your throat”—but it’s a record not without merit. “Little Bit O’Fun” is, er, a little bit of fun, and both “Grab Your Honey” and “Breakfast in Bed” are irritatingly catchy. Despite the bad press and negative reviews, Capital City Rockets did serve as a springboard for at least one of the group’s members. Bassist Eric Moore ended up in a band called The Godz, who recorded two albums for the Millennium/Casablanca label in the late ‘70s.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of a song called “Still Kicking” by the Capital City Rockets: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KHMUbMN8JPA. Also, here is a link to a picture of that somewhat infamous back cover photograph (and, no, I can’t explain the roller derby outfits): http://www.thegodz.net/history1.htm.

Treasure

2010-11-17T09:25:00.003-05:00

Treasure, first released in 1977 on Epic Records, sought its fortunes on the backs of ex-Rascals lead singer/keyboardist Felix Cavaliere, an up-and-coming guitarist by the name of Vinnie Cusano and a special appearance from bassist Rick Laird of the Mahavishnu Orchestra. Attempting to capitalize on the era’s penchant for supergroups and all-star casts—even those of the B-grade variety—Treasure perfected a slick, highly polished blend of guitar-heavy hard rock (“Love Me Tonight,” “My Lady Once Told Me”) and mid-tempo melodic pop (“Jubilation,” “Treasure”). The end result is an entertaining if not entirely original affair. “I Wanna Love You” was the album’s lone single, although songs like “Innocent Eyes” and “Think It’s Love” are similarly hook-laden numbers, both aided by Cavaliere’s soulful vocals and Cusano’s fluid guitar leads. Somewhat surprisingly, the project was a commercial disappointment and Treasure soon washed ashore. Cavaliere re-established a solo career—he had a Top 40 hit in 1980 with a song called “Only a Lonely Heart Sees”—while Cusano changed his surname to Vincent, joined Kiss for two albums (Creatures of the Night and Lick it Up) and then formed the Vinnie Vincent Invasion.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of Treasure’s “I Wanna Love You:” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8c82w6Yb5BM&feature=related.

Compost

2010-11-08T09:29:00.006-05:00

Jazz fusion isn’t a genre typically covered here at The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide, but it’s hard to pass up an opportunity to review an album by a band called Compost. First released in 1972 on Columbia Records, this group’s self-titled debut features a handful of industry heavyweights, including Jack DeJohnette (organ), Bob Moses (vocals, drums) and Harold Vick (saxophone, flute). The band’s sound, although ultimately rooted in jazz, incorporates elements of pop, rock and psychedelic soul in its elongated, fusion-based compositions. The musical blueprint is essentially the same for all of the album’s eight tracks: soulful vocals sprinkled over layers of pulsating rhythmic patterns and intricate horn breaks. “Sweet Berry Wine” is the band’s lone relationship song, although there is nothing romantic about “Inflation Blues:” “A dollar’s worth about 30 cents/you workin’ your behind off and you still can’t pay the rent/the more money you make the more Uncle Sam takes/and the union still cry for more dues.” Of course no ‘70s-era jazz album is complete without the requisite nonsensical song title. In this case it’s “Bwaata,” a largely instrumental piece about a "magic land where peace and love go hand in hand.” Commerical success eluded Compost (the album charted on neither the jazz nor pop charts), but the group did stick around long enough to record a follow-up; Life is Round was issued in 1973.

Notes: I can’t seem to find anything from Compost’s self-titled debut, so you’ll have to settle for something from the group’s sophomore effort. Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of a song called “The Ripper” from Life is Round: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eklWS2r9jmQ&feature=related.

Hell Preachers Inc. ● Supreme Psychedelic Underground

2010-10-21T09:17:00.007-04:00

Hell Preachers Inc.’s Supreme Psychedelic Underground is one of those odd late ‘60s studio projects, a mysterious album lacking personnel credits of any kind. The record has long been rumored to feature future members of Deep Purple—a reasonable claim when one considers the album’s thunderous guitar and keyboard work—but their participation has never been officially confirmed. First released in 1968 on Germany’s Europa Records, Supreme Psychedelic Underground is a relentless blast of riff-heavy psychedelia. The largely instrumental album is short—only two songs surpass the three-minute mark—but its endless array of fuzz-oriented guitar leads and pounding organ fills gives life to the sometimes head-scratching song titles (“Let Me Shoot You?” “We Like The White Man?”). “Preacher Man” and “Turn Turn” rock accordingly, both songs featuring the limited but ultimately serviceable vocals of, well, the lead singer, while “Time Race” and the Middle Eastern-flavored “Shalom” are two of the better instrumental tracks. Regardless of its membership (there are those that think the band is actually a collection of German studio musicians), Hell Preachers Inc.’s lone studio project is a righteous journey through the era’s (supreme) psychedelic underground. It’s a trip worth taking.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of “Turn Turn” from Supreme Psychedelic Underground: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-f83J-_Mzg.

Juicy Lucy

2010-10-13T09:08:00.003-04:00

This blues-based hard rock band took its name from a character found in a novel by Leslie Thomas called The Virgin Soldiers. I haven’t read Thomas’s book, but I’m fairly confident its storyline doesn’t involve a naked woman covered in fruit. Juicy Lucy, first released in 1969 on Vertigo Records, vaulted this British sextet onto the UK singles chart with a raucous cover of Bo Diddley’s “Who Do You Love?” It’s a trashy, garage-like take on an old school classic and ultimately proved to be the band’s defining moment. The remaining seven tracks are a respectable combination of original compositions and well-chosen cover songs. Buddy Miles’s “Train” and Chuck Berry’s “Nadine” are the album’s highlights, two songs best demonstrating the group’s effective mix of blues-flavored guitar riffs, pulsating saxophone breaks and the unusual, slightly affected vocals of lead singer Ray Owen. The band released three more albums, including Get a Whiff a This, a record whose artwork surpasses even the band’s self-titled debut in stomach-churning repulsion. None came close to Juicy Lucy’s success and the band called it a day in 1972. Incidentally, the woman on the front cover is named Zelda Plum. There has to be a fruit-related joke in there somewhere.

Notes: Here are a couple of great clips of Juicy Lucy performing live in a movie called Bread: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=piy5ckyO_Ks and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QXkmuUoUyT0&feature=related.

In the Realm of Asgærd

2010-09-27T10:17:00.005-04:00

Asgærd may be the first band in the history of rock to make use of a grapheme. What’s that, you ask? According to the dictionary, a grapheme is a “unit of a writing system consisting of all the written symbols or sequences of written symbols that are used to represent a single phoneme.” In short: The a and the e are attached. It’s a difficult, somewhat obnoxious linguistic unit—it took me 30 minutes to try and figure out how to replicate the symbol for this review—but I suppose it’s no more pompous or self-serving than an album called In the Realm of Asgærd. First released in 1972 on the Moody Blues’ own Threshold label, Asgærd’s lone lp is progressive-tinged hard rock, a fanciful record with mythical references to “gods of all mankind” and “children of a new born age.” If the band’s fantasy-based lyrical content seems from another planet, the ‘70s-styled guitar heroics and high, glass-shattering vocal harmonies are no less otherworldly. The title track explores Norse mythology (“Thor, the god of thunder/hammer held on high/searching Asgærd’s realm for love/as the world goes passing by”), while “Starquest's” goal is interplanetary: “Racing into to outer space/forget about the human race.” Even the occult is dissected in a cover version of Bulldog Breed’s creepy “Austen Osmanspare.” Both In the Realm of Asgærd and Threshold Records proved unsuccessful. The band dissolved shortly after In the Realm’s… release; the label issued records by relative unknowns like Providence and Trapeze, neither of which scored commercially.

Notes: Here is the title track to Asgærd’s In the Realm of Asgærd: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CottHRbUQ0g.

Aorta

2010-09-01T09:31:00.003-04:00

Do you think these guys regret not calling themselves Heart? I’m not sure such a decision would have changed their commercial fortunes—Aorta only briefly scraped the lower reaches of the Billboard Top 200 album chart—but it might have made them a bit more palatable to the record-buying public (this is assuming clinical descriptions of arterial systems and chest x-rays don’t help sell albums). As it turned out, the Heart moniker was picked up a few years later by a couple of sisters named Wilson, ultimately securing them the edge in the internal-organ-as-band-name sweepstakes. First released in 1969 on Columbia Records, Aorta, complete with cardiac-related song titles—“Main Vein,” “Main Vein II,” “Main Vein III,” “Thoughts and Feelings/Main Vein IV” and “Heart Attack”—is one of the era’s more effective examples of late ‘60s psychedelia. The band’s sizzling concoction of strong vocal harmonies, razor-sharp guitar work and churning organ play is best heard on songs like “Strange,” “Ode To Missy Mxyzosptik” and the aforementioned “Heart Attack.” Elsewhere the band alternates between lengthier, progressive-influenced numbers (“Catalyptic”) and mellower, more melodic soft-rock material (“A Thousand Thoughts”). Sadly, commercial success eluded this Chicago-based quartet. The band moved to the Happy Tiger label to record a second album; the aptly titled Aorta 2 did not chart and the group disbanded.

Notes: An early incarnation of Aorta featured future Chicago vocalist/bassist Peter Cetera. Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of Aorta’s “Heart Attack:” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PgRBah1Sa1M&NR=1.

Quill

2010-08-20T09:03:00.004-04:00

Yet another ill-fated Woodstock band, Quill was the first group to take the stage on the second day of the famed 1969 music and arts festival. Sadly, due to a technical glitch, the quintet’s set was captured on neither video nor tape, and any momentum the group might have garnered from such an appearance quickly disappeared. The group did stick around long enough to record one album, a self-titled project first released in 1970 on Cotillion Records. Aside from a trio of strange, ‘60s-styled song titles—“Thumbnail Screwdriver,” “The Tube Exuding” and “Shrieking Finally”—Woodstock enthusiasts will find little of interest on this seven-song lp. Quill is a dismal record, a dull and directionless mix of guitar-heavy hard rock and elongated progressive-influenced psychedelia. Sandwiched between two sturdy, workmanlike rockers—the aforementioned “Thumbnail Screwdriver” and “Shrieking Finally”—sit a handful of bewildering slices of grade-A weirdness. “They Live the Life” features a relentless percussion solo, while the oddly titled “BBY” is peppered with layers of awkward brass instrumentation. Confounding matters, perhaps, are the bizarre pseudonyms these guys assumed (I’m still trying to figure out what instrument Phil Stan D’There plays). All in all, Quill is a disappointing record, a fairly regrettable addition to The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide collection.

Notes: Ironically, the label for which Quill recorded—Cotillion Records—is the same company that released the original Woodstock soundtrack. Here is a brief audio-only YouTube clip of the band’s performance that day: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVnTI8R4WpE.

Beast

2010-08-10T09:12:00.003-04:00

This Colorado-based septet plays a delicate brand of late ‘60s pop, a musical style at complete odds with both its powerful, aggressive band name and the dark, somewhat inexplicable cover art that graces its self-titled debut. That trumpets and flutes dominate the contents of a record housed in a package so blatantly heavy is one of the great musical paradoxes of the psychedelic era. First released in 1969 on Cotillion Records, a subsidiary of Atlantic, Beast is rooted in acoustic-driven, harmony-laced soft rock. “Floating (Down by the River)” and “Listen” typify the ensemble’s laid back approach, and although “Goin’ Downtown” and “Treat Her Right” are punchy, more upbeat numbers, the album as a whole is a decidedly lightweight affair. Only the fuzz guitar heard in “When We Rise” provides a break from the constant parade of brass and woodwind instrumentation. Although Beast charted briefly on the Billboard Top 200 album chart (it peaked at #195), the band’s career was short-lived. The group released a second self-titled lp on the Evolution label before guitarist Bob Yeazel left to join Sugarloaf, an outfit best known for the song “Green-Eyed Lady.”

Notes: Guitarist Bob Yeazel has an excellent web site that covers his musical career. An in-depth history of Beast, along with a few sound clips, can be found here: http://www.bobyeazel.com/Beast.htm.

High Tide ● Sea Shanties

2010-07-23T09:36:00.004-04:00

It took a while, but The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide finally stumbled upon the word that best describes High Tide’s Sea Shanties: Cacophony (frequent use of discords of a harshness and relationship difficult to understand; having a harsh, unpleasant sound; discordant). I wouldn’t necessarily describe Sea Shanties as “unpleasant,” although “harsh” and “discordant” are more than apt descriptions of this British-based quartet’s brand of progressive-influenced hard rock. High Tide’s debut, first released in 1969 on Liberty Records, mixes to startling effect a unique arrangement of punishing guitar fills, frenetic electric violin leads and a pounding, relentless rhythm section. “Futilist’s Lament” and “Death Warmed Up” feature the group at its most aggressive, Tony Hill’s guitar and Simon House’s violin together creating a sort of rock and roll pandemonium. “Pushed, But Not Forgotten” and “Walking Down Their Outlook,” two songs rooted in various time changes and tempo shifts, reveal a group exploring its more progressive roots. Not surprisingly, the group’s aural assault was a hard sell. The band released a self-titled follow-up—another highly cacophonous affair—before High Tide dissolved, House eventually signing on for a stint with Hawkwind.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of “Death Warmed Up” by High Tide: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FY7MZHoGxHY.

Swallow

2010-07-12T10:47:00.004-04:00

Swallow’s first album is called Out of the Nest, a title that suggests this Boston-based band took its name from the family of small birds noted for their long wings. How cute. By the time of 1973’s follow-up, however, a self-titled project produced by the Atlanta Rhythm Section’s Buddy Buie, the group seems to have been influenced more by the voluntary muscular action that moves food down the esophagus and into the stomach. The end result is a strange and somewhat vile piece of artwork that Joe Viglione of All Music Guide (AMG) calls “one of the all-time worst album covers.” If you can ignore the cover art, however, this nine-piece ensemble delivers a tasty set of horn-infused, blues-based hard rock. Toying with the basic concept employed by other brass-flavored groups of the era, Swallow layers its good time rock and roll with a smattering of saxophones, trumpets and trombones. The album kicks off with the hard-driving “Georgia, Pack My Bags,” followed in short by a series of well-crafted pop songs, most notably “Illinois” and “Don’t Tell Mama.” The remaining tracks feature a balanced mix of uptempo rhythm and blues numbers (“I Get My Rocks Off Rockin’,” “Let It Roll”) and sensitive ballads (“I’ll Be Home”). Sadly, Swallow didn’t fare any better than its predecessor and the group disbanded. Producer Buie found fame and fortune with the Atlanta Rhythm Section as a songwriter/manager/producer (he co-wrote both “Imaginary Lover” and “So Into You”), while member Vern Miller eventually reunited with The Remains, a garage band he helped form in 1964.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of “Helping Hand” by Swallow: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rJkYwk9BPU.

In Hearing of Atomic Rooster

2010-06-23T09:23:00.004-04:00

Playing off what has arguably become the most popular song from Mary Poppins, England’s Atomic Rooster used In Hearing of… to deliver one of the decade’s greatest song titles: “A Spoonful of Bromide Helps the Pulse Rate Go Down.” While this heavy metal-based instrumental (you were expecting lyrics?) reveals a rather dark sense of humor, it also typifies the quartet’s brand of keyboard-driven progressive hard rock. In Hearing of…, first released in 1971 on Pegasus Records, was the third of five Atomic Rooster albums (I’m not counting two early ‘80s reunion projects) and the only one to feature singer Pete French. “Devil’s Answer” was a hit in Britain, where the album cracked the Top 20, but nothing is quite as cheeky or entertaining as the aforementioned nod to a chemical sedative. That’s not to say the band doesn’t rock. Both “Break the Ice” and “Head in the Sky” showcase an effective mix of keyboard and guitar interplay, while “The Rock” is another nifty instrumental piece. In Hearing of… represented Atomic Rooster’s commercial peak. French soon left to join Cactus and was replaced by British soul singer Chris Farlowe. Founder and keyboardist Vincent Crane, an original member of the Crazy World of Arthur Brown, died of a painkiller overdose in 1989 after a long battle with mental illness.

Notes: Here’s Atomic Rooster’s “A Spoonful of Bromide Helps the Pulse Rate Go Down:” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Soy4x-H4gI4.

Touch

2010-06-17T09:27:00.007-04:00

Don Gallucci, the creative force behind Touch, had this to say in regards to his group’s one and only album, first released in 1969 on Decca Records: “The Touch album… was designed to go where no one had musically gone before in order to break down barriers and walls in the mind; to cause the listener to achieve an altered state of consciousness… through music.” No, I’m not exactly sure what that means either, but it might not matter: Touch is widely considered the first progressive rock album ever, thereby saving it from its initial destination as yet another random footnote in the history of rock (whether to thank the band or blame them for their role in the birth of prog-rock is your choice). Touch, er, touches upon jazz (“Alesha and Others”), classical (“Friendly Birds”) and rock (“Miss Teach”) in creating what is ultimately a challenging, confusing, somewhat maddening collection of late ‘60s psychedelia. One can certainly debate the band’s decision to boldly go where no one had gone before, but it’s hard to overlook its impact on an entire genre. Incidentally, if you are really looking for an altered state of consciousness, consider this: Don Gallucci joined the Kingsmen in 1963 and played piano on “Louie, Louie.” He was 16 years old.

Notes: The late '60s Touch shouldn't be confused with the late '70s Touch, a melodic rock outfit led by keyboardist Mark Mangold. Check out the original Touch's MySpace page: http://www.myspace.com/seventyfivemusic.

Sam Gopal ● Escalator

2010-06-07T09:52:00.005-04:00

Sam Gopal is apparently one of the world’s foremost tabla players (tabla: “a small drum or pair of drums of India tuned to different pitches and played with the hands”). How he found himself in a psychedelic hard rock band with a guitar player by the name of Ian Fraser Kilmister—Lemmy to those in the know—is probably a mystery best left to the sands of time. First released in 1969 on the ultra-rare Stable Records, Escalator was Gopal’s lone attempt at creating acid rock with a hint of Middle Eastern instrumentation. He called upon Lemmy to deliver the material, all of which was apparently written in one night of speed ball-induced mania. That’s not hard to believe. The material is aimless and the vocals fairly uninspired, but the guitar work is impressive and the use of the tabla is surprisingly effective. Although the title track and “Cold Embrace” are two bright if not entirely cheery slabs of guitar-driven psychedelia, “The Dark Lord” veers toward the sinister, Lemmy’s soaring guitar leads strewn over menacing, somewhat cryptic lyrics (“Black wings across the sky/bring the nightfall/winds whine around the stars/black riders call/light fading time’s wasting hell’s waiting/for the dark lord”). Creepy. Escalator is hardly required listening, but one could do worse when exploring the dark corners of British underground hard rock.

Notes: After a brief stint in Hawkwind, Lemmy formed Motorhead in 1975. Here is the title track to Escalator: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8lEOVVI5OrM&feature=related.

The Alan Bown!

2010-05-20T09:02:00.005-04:00

I like any band that uses an exclamation point at the end of its name. That’s the grammatical approach Alan Bown took when he signed to Deram Records and released this 1969 self-titled lp, a horn-heavy platter of progressive jazz rock. After a couple of failed singles as the rhythm and blues-infused Alan Bown Set, this trumpet player turned band leader changed course and turned his blue-eyed soul into more experimental, brass-flavored pop. The shift in musical direction didn’t change Bown’s commercial fortunes, but his new approach did land him a young vocalist by the name of Robert Palmer. The pair’s initial collaboration, The Alan Bown!, is worthy of its emphatic punctuation mark. The driving “My Friend” kicks things off, followed by a series of well-crafted, jazz-oriented pop songs, most notably “Strange Little Friend” and “Children of the Night.” The album’s centerpiece is a 10-minute-long song called “The Prisoner.” With a nod towards the progressive, this extended number captures the group at its most ambitious, its varying musical passages highlighting the group’s musical prowess. Palmer left soon after to join a band called Vinegar Joe before pursuing a successful solo career; Bown signed to Island Records for two final albums: Listen (1970) and Stretching Out (1971).

Notes: I couldn’t find anything from The Alan Bown!, but did manage to locate an audio-only YouTube clip of the title track to Bown’s third and final album, Stretching Out (at this point Palmer had been replaced by singer Gordon Neville): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LS6EdJDu-0Q.

Toad

2010-05-14T09:11:00.001-04:00

From deep within the heart of the Swiss Alps comes Toad, a little-known conglomerate of European headbangers serving up a bone crushing platter of sledgehammer hard rock. The band’s self-titled debut, first released in 1971 on Hallelujah Records, is a pounding collection of acid-drenched guitar-rock. "They Say I'm Mad," a heavy blues-based rocker, and "Pig's Walk," a vicious, largely instrumental romp, best capture the fret board pyrotechnics of guitarist Vic Vergeat, whose pulverizing array of metal-based riffs help hide the at times awkward lead vocals of singer Beni Jaeger (a man whose first language is quite clearly not English). The album’s highlight comes in the form of "Life Goes On," a 12-minute psychedelic journey through the mine fields of progressive hard rock, a mini-epic of vintage ‘70s proportion. Jaeger left almost immediately after the album was recorded, but Toad was never really about the singing anyway. Vergeat bludgeoned his way through two additional albums, both of which, Tomorrow Blue and Dreams, were reissued on compact disc in 2007 by Italy’s now-defunct Akarma Records.

Notes: “Pig’s Walk” from Toad: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zg5-V53a0ME&feature=related.

Philamore Lincoln ● The North Wind Blew South

2010-05-06T09:11:00.004-04:00

There are essentially three reasons why this album deserves a spot here at The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide, the first of which should be obvious: This guy’s name is Philamore. Couple that with a Jimmy Page guitar solo on the song “You’re the One” and a back cover photograph by Chris Dreja of the Yardbirds and you’ve got yourself a highly obscure collectable of British-based psychedelic pop. First released in 1970 on Epic Records, The North Wind Blew South is a mellow, almost dreamy collection of acoustic-flavored soft rock. “Rainy Day” and “When You Were Looking My Way” typify Lincoln’s brand of breezy, highly orchestrated pop, while “Lazy Good for Nothin’” and “The County Jail Band” are more upbeat, rock-oriented numbers. You wouldn’t expect someone like Jimmy Page to appear on a record as light as this, but the famed guitar slinger’s nimble finger work helps turn the aforementioned “You’re the One” into one of the album’s best songs. Lincoln’s career ultimately disappeared like the north wind that blew south, but not before Welsh folk singer Mary Hopkin took a cover of his “Temma Harbour” into the UK Top 10 in early 1970.

Notes: The 2010 Grapefruit Records reissue reveals that Philamore Lincoln’s real name is Robert Cromwell Anson. I knew a name like Philamore was too good to be true. Either way, here is “Rainy Day” from The North Wind Blew South: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_QaU-nZdoKU.

Ashkan ● In From the Cold

2010-04-23T09:11:00.004-04:00

Martin Popoff, in his The Collector’s Guide to Heavy Metal, Volume I: The Seventies, has this to say in regards to Ashkan’s In From the Cold: “Recommended for those who think vintage is desirable at the expense of desirability.” He could be talking about record collecting in general, of course, but his critique here is particularly valid. Ashkan’s 1970 debut is highly sought after not for the musical contents contained within—fairly pedestrian B-grade blues rock—but for the album’s status as the first-ever record released on Deram’s Nova imprint. “Take These Chains” and “One of Us Two” both justify the label’s support, two songs aided greatly by the guitar work of future Fleetwood Mac member Bob Weston, but the remaining six tracks are fairly dismal stabs at blues-flavored heavy metal. The more than 12-minute-long “Darkness” is a muddy, fairly depressing entry into the progressive rock sweepstakes, while “Stop (Wait and Listen)” and “Practically Never Happens” reveal a group still honing its songwriting skills. In the end, it didn’t much matter—Ashkan broke up before the album was released. Incidentally, a recent eBay search shows an original copy of this album selling for a mere $24.99. I guess that qualifies as neither vintage nor desirable.

Notes: Ashkan guitarist Bob Weston recorded two albums with Fleetwood Mac between 1972-1973 (Penguin and Mystery to Me). Here is “One of Us Two” from In From the Cold: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EnE3kSEOeyQ.

Kingdom Come ● Galactic Zoo Dossier

2010-04-13T09:03:00.002-04:00

Emerging from the harrowing underbelly of the psychedelic hard rock movement, Arthur Brown and Kingdom Come’s debut album is a relentless collection of spooky spoken word bits, heavy guitar and keyboard riffs, and general far-out freakiness. Galactic Zoo Dossier, first released in 1971 on Polydor Records, represents Brown’s first recorded output following the dissolution of The Crazy World of Arthur Brown, owners of a 1968 hit called “Fire.” Removing Brown’s commercial aspirations, Kingdom Come opts instead for a more progressive run through the era’s brush with psychedelia. “Sunrise,” the album’s best song, is a slow-burning dirge that eventually erupts into a furious platter of hard rock mayhem, while “Metal Monster,” “Night of the Pigs” and “Creep”—the titles alone should make you shudder—reveal darker, more sinister themes. Galactic Zoo Dossier is a challenging listen, the uncompromising complexity of the project oftentimes overshadowing the already thin layers of melody and song structure. Kingdom Come survived long enough for two more albums, including 1973’s Journey, supposedly one of the first albums of the rock era to use an electronic drum machine.

Notes: Check out this fantastic footage of Arthur Brown and his band performing at England’s 1971 Glastonbury Fayre. I swear it’s not from This is Spinal Tap, but now you know from where Alice Cooper and Kiss might have drawn their inspiration: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YyIYGES_U08&feature=related.

Beacon Street Union ● The Clown Died in Marvin Gardens

2010-04-01T09:16:00.002-04:00

If clowns are scary, then dead clowns are terrifying. You can therefore understand my trepidation when delving into the contents of a record called The Clown Died in Marvin Gardens, the second and final long player from Boston’s Beacon Street Union. First released in 1968 on MGM Records, The Clown Died in Marvin Gardens is befitting of the psychedelic era from which it emerged, an album full of unusual sound effects, nonsensical spoken word bits and trippy hard rock guitar fills. “King of the Jungle” and “May I Light Your Cigarette” are two of the stranger tracks, the latter a mysterious, incoherent monologue, while the eerie title track does in fact expand on the Marvin Gardens Monopoly reference (“Beggars underbidding for Park Place/the Community Chest is profane/by the tracks of the B&O Railroad…”). The quintet delivers a couple of genuine nuggets in “Now,” a punchy hard rock number, and a slightly jazz-oriented pop song called “A Not Very August Afternoon” before closing the album with an electrifying if lengthy take on “Baby Please Don’t Go.” The band took one last shot at commercial success with a cover version of “Blue Suede Shoes” before calling it quits… almost. A name change to Eagle resulted in one final lp, Come Under Nancy’s Tent (1971), a title reportedly chosen only for its less than savory acronym.

Notes: Here’s an audio-only YouTube clip of Beacon Street Union’s “Blue Suede Shoes:” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yPmp-ej5WHU.

Chillum

2010-03-22T10:22:00.003-04:00

The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide isn’t much into all-instrumental albums—most seem to require the use of a snooze button—but how can any self-respecting music lover—particularly those of the obscure variety—overlook a group with a list of songs that includes “Introduction by Brain Surgeons from the Royal Free Hospital,” “Brain Stain,” “Too Many Bananas” and “Yes! We Have No Pajamas?” First released in 1971 on Mushroom Records, Chillum was an offshoot of a two-record band called Second Hand (that group’s final album was titled—wait for it—Death May Be Your Santa Claus). Its self-titled debut is a UK-based relic of instrumental psychedelia, a loosely organized collection of keyboard-driven hard rock. The 22-minute “Brain Stain” best captures the band’s freeform style. The song, an experimental journey into the furthest corners of the progressive rock spectrum, straddles a fine line between subtle metal-based riffs and aimless hippie-influenced improvisation. The aforementioned “Too Many Bananas” and “Yes! We Have No Pajamas” cover similar terrain, the former even including an extended drum solo. If Chillum sounds to you like nothing more than a hazy, drug-induced jam session, I have bad news: The 2010 Sunbeam reissue includes four bonus tracks, all of which resemble the original album’s directionless meandering.

Notes: I couldn’t find any Chillum sound bites, but I did manage to locate an audio-only YouTube clip of Second Hand’s “Death May Be Your Santa Claus.” Good luck: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A32Pp1uY3xc. Also, chillum: “The part of a hookah that contains the tobacco, marijuana, or other substance being smoked.” Of course.

The Unspoken Word

2010-03-15T09:16:00.004-04:00

Let’s be honest: One of the main reasons I own every record you’d never buy is that many of these obscure rarities just aren’t that good. The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide has to wade through a lot of sludge to uncover the proverbial needle in a haystack. Every once in a while, however, out from nowhere pops a polished gem, a musical diamond in the rough. The Unspoken Word is a good example. First released in 1970 on Atco Records, this Long Island-based quintet’s self-titled sophomore effort is a splendid blend of pounding Hammond organ, fluid rock guitar and an unusual but effective mix of male and female lead vocals. “Pillow,” “I Don’t Need No Music,” “Healthy, Wealthy & Wise” and “Around and Around” (a Chuck Berry cover) all deliver the goods, an excellent ensemble of riff-based psychedelic hard rock. The band’s diversity emerges in the blues-influenced “Personal Manager” and the slower, folk-like “Sleepy Mountain Ecstasy,” both providing a nice change of pace from the heavier material. Those curious might be interested in the group’s first album, the strangely titled Tuesday, April 19th, but be forewarned: This 1968 effort’s more pop-oriented sound in no way resembles the gritty work found on The Unspoken Word. It’s an album like this that keeps me browsing through rock and roll’s various cut-out bins and delete racks. It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of The Unspoken Word's "Personal Manager:" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ii_DD2HUpxE&feature=related.

New Heavenly Blue

2010-03-05T09:06:00.004-05:00

Here is a list of instruments used to record New Heavenly Blue: Electric violin, flugelhorn, flute, harp, thumb piano, trombone, washboard and, of course, wooden cooking spoons. Are you as concerned as I am? First released in 1972 on Atlantic Records, New Heavenly Blue’s self-titled debut is an unbelievably random mix of pop, rock, country, blues and jazz with a sprinkle of bluegrass and a hint of gospel. I’m not kidding. “The Battlefields of History,” a song about “an Indo-Chinese child’s devastated world…,” features the band at its eclectic peak, the violin, flute and harmonica prominently displayed over more than six minutes of largely acoustic-based soft rock. “Love You Tonite” and “I Look Upon What I Have Done” represent the group’s most commercial-sounding material, while “Raft Song,” “Pegleg (Back in 35)” and “Tulsa Oklahoma Blues” all make ample use of the album’s varied instrumentation. The songs here are interesting, the playing is tight and there certainly isn’t a shortage of creativity, but the lack of musical cohesion makes for a rather scattered listening experience. One final note: New Heavenly Blue featured a guitarist by the name of David Mason. I think it’s safe to assume this isn’t the Dave Mason who played in Traffic. It is true, however, that Chris Brubeck is the son of Dave Brubeck, he of the Dave Brubeck Quartet jazz ensemble.

Notes: Here is a link to Chris Brubeck’s home page: http://chrisbrubeck.com/.

Skip Bifferty

2010-02-23T11:01:00.005-05:00

I’m always slightly rattled when I stumble upon a song that might have anything to do with J.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy. This is largely due to my aversion to fantasy-based literature, but perhaps I should be less concerned with Skip Bifferty’s “The Hobbit” and more anxious about songs called “Gas Board Under Dog” and “Prince Germany the First.” Owners of a 1968 self-titled lp first released on RCA Records, this UK-based quintet delivered one much-admired, highly collectable platter of late ‘60s psychedelic pop. “In my happy land I’m king and all the world is mine,” the band sings in “Happy Land,” a track best reflecting the group’s upbeat, harmony-laced brand of durable psychedelia. “All my subjects there are children and they’re doing fine…” Despite the plethora of light-hearted fare, the band is at its best when it turns up the guitars and cranks up the power chords. The sonic crunch heard on “On Love” and “Man in Black” reveals a welcome and effective blast of six-string hard rock, while “Planting Bad Seeds” is a rollicking slice of piano-based garage rock. As for “The Hobbit,” a song whose mythical references include “evil goblins” and a “human man of magic,” its relation to Tolkien remains a mystery. Skip Bifferty’s musical family tree is fairly long and complex, but various members ended up in Arc, Griffin, and Ian Dury and the Blockheads.

Notes: “Planting Bad Seeds” from Skip Bifferty: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jI4bYIgs6Gw&NR=1. Also, check out the band’s MySpace page: http://www.myspace.com/skipbifferty6768.

Paladin

2010-02-12T13:59:00.004-05:00

First released in 1971 on Bronze Records, Paladin’s self-titled debut is a lot more fun than its cover would suggest. The band employed Roger Dean to spruce up its sophomore effort, 1972’s Charge!, but that did little to extend the group's career. Artwork aside, Paladin is a band probably best known for its bass player, Peter Beckett (it was Beckett who co-wrote “Baby Come Back” for Player, the group he helped form in 1977). If it’s the slick, commercialized pop of Player you are looking for, however, you’d best be prepared to look elsewhere. Paladin is a far more complex proposition, incorporating elements of rock, jazz and Latin rhythms into a somewhat unusual but effective melting pot of progressive hard rock. “Bad Times,” “Fill Up Your Heart” and “Flying High” are the album’s best cuts, heavily loaded with lots of keyboard and guitar interplay, and although songs like “Third World” and “The Fakir” tend to slow the record’s momentum, Paladin on the whole manages to succeed as an obscure, dusty relic of early ‘70s British rock and roll. Incidentally, Peter Beckett isn’t the only notable member of Paladin. Keyboardist Peter Solley and drummer Keith Webb both played with Terry Reid. Reid, who recorded the 1968 album Bang, Bang You’re Terry Reid, is probably best known as the man who turned down Jimmy Page’s offer to join the New Yardbirds. The New Yardbirds, of course, became Led Zeppelin.

Notes: Here’s an audio-only YouTube clip of “Fill Up Your Heart:” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_Tf4nol1cg&NR=1. In addition, here is a link to the official Peter Beckett web site, which includes an entire section devoted to Paladin: http://www.peterbeckett-player.com/3/miscellaneous8.htm.

Flash

2010-02-01T10:02:00.003-05:00

Another borderline entry here at The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide, Flash’s self-titled debut features a handful of big no-no’s in the land of the obscure and home of the rare: Two famous musicians (former Yes members Peter Banks and Tony Kaye), a US Top 30 single (“Small Beginnings”) and a spot on the Billboard Top 200 album chart (#33). Here’s hoping you are still scratching your head in mild bewilderment. First released in 1972 on Sovereign Records, Flash is standard-issue progressive hard rock, its finer points accentuated by the impressive guitar work of Banks. “Small Beginnings” was the hit—the single version knocks almost six minutes off the original album-length version—but “Children of the Universe” and “Dreams of Heaven” chart similar waters: Sharp keyboard flourishes, biting guitar solos, and extended, intricate musical passages. Lead singer Colin Curtis’s affected vocals are an acquired taste, but the band seems far more interested in flexing its instrumental chops anyway. Flash released two more albums—the cover art for In the Can features a different if just as suggestive part of the female anatomy—before calling it a day. Banks pursued a solo career, while Kaye formed a short-lived group called Badger.

Notes: Here is the full-length album version of “Small Beginnings:” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2vwJBnJq7o. Also, check out the band’s official web site: http://www.psychosync.info/.

Boulder

2010-01-22T09:18:00.003-05:00

The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide has just located what might be the most unimaginative album cover ever. I don’t know if this supposed artistic statement was the band’s idea or maybe the label’s decision, but I could do better with a disposable camera and a piece of cardboard. First released in 1979 on Elektra Records, Boulder is probably best known as the launching pad for singer/guitarist Stan Bush, a renowned cult figure amongst melodic rock fans. Strangely, he’s more of a background figure on this album, an overly slick studio project of paint-by-the-numbers pop/rock. It’s rarely good when an album’s best moment comes in the form of a cover song—in this case Warren Zevon’s “Join Me in L.A.”—but Boulder’s self-penned moments are as bland as the artwork. “I want a heartbeat/to save my soul,” declares the band in “Heartbeat,” a song typical of the group’s lyrical clichés. “A drumbeat/to move my feet/let the good times roll.” The additional moments of rock and roll retread—“Turn Up the Radio,” “Winner Takes All” and “Travelin’ Man” certainly aren’t original concepts—all add up to an expertly played yet completely soulless record. I’m not sure what happened to the other members of Boulder, but Bush ultimately bolted for a solo career before forming a short-lived group called Barrage.

Notes: Warren Zevon’s “Join Me in L.A.” is the one must-hear moment on Boulder’s self-titled debut: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jy1N64Zl25c.

Fludd

2010-01-13T10:51:00.005-05:00

I read recently of an individual who received a free copy of this album when buying a pair of sneakers at a sporting goods store. I can’t imagine such a promotion does much for a rock and roll band’s commercial fortunes, but any record given away with a pair of running shoes is an immediate candidate for The "I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy" CD Consumer’s Guide. Fludd, first released in 1971 on Warner Bros. Records, is uptempo pop with a shot of glam and a sprinkle of hard rock. The whimsical “Turned 21” was a hit in the band’s native Canada, although “David Copperfield” and “Get Up, Get Out & Move On” (a non-lp single) are better songs, the latter’s catchy sing-along chorus turning it into prototypical stadium rock. The remaining 11 tracks constitute an unusual mix of British-influenced psychedelic pop (“The Egg,” “Birmingham”) and riff-heavy guitar rock (“Mama’s Boy,” “Tuesday Blue”). A bit odd, this one, Fludd’s cut-out status in the shoe department not entirely undeserved. Postscript: Bassist Greg Godovitz formed the band Goddo in 1975, while Fludd continued to record and tour throughout the decade. For more, check out the band’s web site at http://www.fludd.ca/.

Notes: "Get Up, Get Out & Move On" didn't actually appear on Fludd's self-titled debut, but it's arguably the band's best song from this time period. Here it is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8qdYLhBY9XA.

Robert Calvert ● Captain Lockheed and the Starfighters

2010-01-04T08:57:00.004-05:00

I’ll assume you’ve been coming here long enough to realize I’m not making this up: A mesmerizing mix of rock, pop and early punk combined with comedic spoken word bits, Robert Calvert’s Captain Lockheed and the Starfighters is a concept album based on Germany’s 1960s purchase of the Lockheed F-104 Starfighter airplane. First released in 1974 on United Artists Records, this 17-song lp focuses on the Starfighter’s faulty safety record. “Hits the ground as fast as sound/700,000 pounds of little pieces lying around,” exclaims Calvert in “The Widow Maker.” “The widow maker/is a real brain shaker.” Songs like the absurdly titled “The Aerospaceage Inferno Aircraft,” “Salesman (A Door in the Foot)” and “Board Meeting (Seen through a Contract Lense)” help advance the record’s satirical storyline, but it’s “Ejection” and “The Right Stuff,” two unbelievably great moments of high-speed hard rock, that stress the record’s more mainstream elements. Calvert, a longtime member of Hawkwind, released a 1975 follow-up album called Lucky Leif and the Longships. Another conceptual project, the record tells the story of what might have happened had the Vikings successfully discovered and inhabited America. In this case you’ll just have to take my word for it.

Notes: Robert Calvert died of a heart attack in 1988. Here’s an audio-only YouTube clip of his song “Ejection:” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=on8eM4kYDHk.

Edwards Hand

2009-12-21T13:18:00.007-05:00

The "I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy" CD Consumer’s Guide isn’t much into conspiracy theories, but take a close look at this album cover and tell me you don’t see the image of a person standing in the middle of those tree branches. Maybe it’s just my fading eyesight. The music of Edwards Hand—folk-influenced psychedelic pop that critic Richie Unterberger describes as “Bee Gees-lite”—doesn’t necessarily lend itself to shadowy figures lurking in treetops anyway. Rod Edwards (keyboards, vocals) and Roger Hand (guitar, vocals) got their start in a one-record band called Picadilly Line before venturing out as a duo. Produced by George Martin and released in 1969 on GRT Records, the group’s self-titled debut is breezy, lightweight psychedelia. “Close My Eyes” and “Sing Along with the Singer” best represent the band’s musical blueprint—acoustic-based soft rock awash in lush two-part harmonies and sweeping orchestral arrangements. The lyrical content borders on mawkish—“I will bring you happiness/wrapped up in a box and tied/with a yellow ribbon/I will bring you rainbow skies/and summer rain to make your/garden grow”—but the album is bolstered by the inclusion of several of the era's top-notch studio musicians. All in all it’s a pretty if not entirely original affair. Edwards Hand released two more albums, including 1970’s slightly heavier Stranded.

Notes: “Close My Eyes” by Edwards Hand: www.youtube.com/watch?v=7AQEnCQN92A.

Aum ● Resurrection

2009-12-10T08:59:00.002-05:00

This lost artifact of late ‘60s psychedelia comes to us via Bill Graham’s Fillmore label, a business venture established around the success of the famed concert venues. Fillmore recordings are rare—the label only existed for a brief three years—but Aum’s Christian-influenced brand of blues-based hard rock is even more obscure. Resurrection, first released in 1969, was actually the band’s second lp (Bluesvibes appeared earlier that year on the Sire label). The album is a serviceable slice of San Francisco heaviness, its religious overtones making it one of the more unique efforts from the Haight-Ashbury district. The choral-influenced “God is Back in Town” is the most obvious in its Christian references—“Have you heard the Word?”—although the title track, a mellow blues number, is also rife with religious imagery (“…and the ghost of a thousand suns/came shining through the trees/and relieved my soul/of all the fears… I’m not afraid anymore”). Jesus must have been a rocker, though, for the trio also knocks off a couple of nasty hard rock songs in “Bye Bye Baby” and “Little Brown Hen.” Not surprisingly, Resurrection was a hard sell. Aum was done by 1970; Fillmore Records closed up shop shortly thereafter.

Notes: Graham also founded a label called San Francisco Records, which was home to both Cold Blood and Tower of Power. From the Fillmore stable of artists, here’s Aum and the title track to its second and final album: www.youtube.com/watch?v=bw3OrLYfGNc.

Mephistopheles ● In Frustration I Hear Singing

2009-12-01T09:14:00.004-05:00

Can you believe there was once a band called Mephistopheles? Of course you can. It’s 1969 and you’re visiting The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide. Taking its name from 16th century Faustian legend—Mephistopheles was the devil to whom Faust sold his soul—this six-piece outfit emerged from the psychedelic underground and recorded one album, the strangely titled In Frustration I Hear Singing. This 12-song lp, lost and found from the vaults of Reprise Records, is prototypical late ‘60s psychedelia, a musical exercise in odd song titles (“The Cricket Song,” “The Girl Who Self-Destroyed”), bizarre lyrical content (“Listen to the crickets/listen everyday/listen to the crickets/tell me what they say”) and awkward rock instrumentation (“Do Not Expect a Garden” features a trumpet; “Vagabond Queen” is saddled with a flute). Despite the hippie-ness of it all, Mephistopheles features an expert ensemble of skilled musicians with a strong sense of melody. The guitar work, especially on songs like “Dead Ringer” and the title track, is particularly impressive. It’s the vocals, however, that very nearly turn this record into rock and roll roadkill (God bless the tortured soul singing “Sleeping Deeply”). Legend has it that three of the band’s members became Jehovah’s Witnesses, which ultimately led to the group’s demise. I’m not sure how true that is, but of this I’m certain: Guitarist Fred Tackett has been a member of Little Feat since 1988.

Blind Ravage

2009-11-24T09:38:00.002-05:00

Fuzzed-out freakiness from the furthest reaches of the frigid far north (that’s Canada, eh), Blind Ravage used 1971 to drop its lone self-titled debut album on an unsuspecting public (and unsuspecting the public remained; the record sank without a trace upon its initial release). That Blind Ravage suffered such a short shelf life is a shame, actually, for the band’s brand of north-of-the-border psychedelic hard rock is definitely worth a listen. The group’s organ-dominated, guitar-laden sound is best heard on tracks like “Tousaw,” “Disaster,” “Loser” and “Susie-Q,” the album’s lone cover song (originally co-written and recorded by Dale Hawkins in 1957 and successfully reinterpreted by Creedence Clearwater Revival in 1968). The vocals aren’t great, the production quality is questionable and the quartet probably wasn’t helped by an unusual marketing campaign—the original sleeve notes, in addition to preparing the listener to be “ravaged,” describe the band’s sound as “devastating”—but Blind Ravage is in the end a decent entry from the vast wilderness of obscure Canadian rock and roll.

Morning

2009-11-16T13:56:00.006-05:00

I’m terrified of any band with a banjo player. Not surprisingly, a pastel-colored album cover representing the cheerful mood of daybreak does nothing to alleviate my fears, nor do song titles like “Early Morning” and “New Day.” I guess I’m a night person. None of this ultimately matters, of course, for it all comes down to the music, which in this case warrants a passing if unspectacular grade. First released in 1970 on the obscure Vault Records, Morning is an acoustic guitar-based collection of country-flavored soft rock. “Angelina,” “Tell Me a Story” and “Roll ‘Em Down” best represent the group’s melodic, harmony-rich sound, while “It’ll Take Time” features an interesting country-jazz instrumental break (Country-jazz? Is there such a thing?). Most of the remaining tracks reflect the more maudlin side of the singer-songwriter genre, including the mawkish “As it Was” and “Time.” The fate of Vault Records remains a mystery, but Morning soldiered on and eventually inked a deal with Fantasy Records; 1972’s Struck Like Silver commercially fared no better than its predecessor.

Notes: Proof that you can find anything on the Internet: Morning has its own MySpace page: www.myspace.com/morningfromthe70s. Recommended: “Tell Me a Story.”

Pacific Drift ● Feelin' Free

2009-11-10T09:26:00.006-05:00

Pacific Drift has a song called “Plaster Casters USA,” a subtle reminder that only in 1970 could a band effectively write a song about artificially measuring a man’s, er, manhood (“who will you cast today/plaster casters USA… faster caster plaster casters are you wasting time/faster caster plaster casters who’s the next in line”). Questionable subject matter for the era’s prim and proper, of course, but a suitable tribute to the legend of this unique hobby. First released on Deram’s short-lived Nova imprint, Feelin’ Free is an impressive collection of late ‘60s psychedelia. “Just Another Girl,” “Greta the Legend” and the aforementioned “Plaster Casters USA” reveal the band’s acid rock roots, while “Tomorrow Morning Brings,” “Grain of Sand” and “Norman” demonstrate the group’s formidable mix of progressive pop and blues-flavored jazz. Sadly, not even a cover of Spirit’s “Water Woman”—a UK-only non-lp single—could salvage the quartet’s commercial fortunes. Pacific Drift split shortly after Feelin’ Free’s release, although maybe the band’s influence was more lasting than first thought; Kiss included a song called “Plaster Caster” on its 1977 album Love Gun.

Notes: The most famous “plaster caster” was Cynthia Albritton, a self-described “recovering groupie.” She first made a name for herself when she “plastered” the genitalia of Jimi Hendrix. Albritton has her own web site (http://www.cynthiaplastercaster.com/) and was the subject of a 2001 documentary called—you guessed it—Plaster Caster.

Kingdom

2009-10-30T09:44:00.006-04:00

Thanks to Akarma’s completely inadequate liner notes (er, there aren’t any), I can tell you very little about Kingdom. It would appear this California-based band released its lone self-titled debut album in 1970 on a small label called Specialty Records. Here's what I do know: This is a sturdy, durable set of workman-like blue-collar rock. Kingdom is hardly groundbreaking material, but it’s fairly representative of what was happening at the turn of the decade—gruff, blustery vocals, churning organ and keyboard work and, somewhat rare at the time, twin guitar leads. Highlights include the nifty riff-based rockers “Waiting, Hesitating,” “Down on the Farm” and “No Time Spent,” a song whose lyrical content drifts strangely towards oceanic fantasy (“We are seekers/seeking mermaids/who lie in the sun…”). The album’s one true keeper, though, is a herculean track called “Morning Swallow.” Starting slowly and building to a monumental finish, this epic seemingly paved the way for those great southern rock anthems like Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird” or, perhaps more accurately, “Green Grass and High Tides” by the Outlaws. All in all, Kingdom is a competent jaunt through the littered landscape of early ‘70s B-grade hard rock.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of "Waiting, Hesitating" by Kingdom: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mz6RrVpBTVA.

Thunderclap Newman ● Hollywood Dream

2009-10-26T13:57:00.006-04:00

I’m not sure Thunderclap Newman is the best candidate for The "I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy" CD Consumer’s Guide—the band’s “Something in the Air” was a worldwide hit in 1969—but the dismal commercial failure of the single’s accompanying album means you probably don’t own a copy. I do, of course, and am happy to report that Hollywood Dream fits nicely in between albums by Three Man Army and Touch. Assembled by The Who’s Pete Townsend to help promote the songs of lead singer John “Speedy” Keene, Thunderclap Newman’s falsetto-based, acoustic-driven “Something in the Air” is a brilliant four minutes of ethereal melodic rock. It’s the best song on a record full of unusual twists and pleasant surprises. “The Reason” and “When I Think” are like-minded numbers, both employing the band’s unique vocal approach amidst an almost dreamy musical backdrop. The remaining nine tracks include an odd yet effective collection of funky piano breaks (“Hollywood #1), punchy guitar leads (“Wild Country”) and progressive-tinged elements of psychedelia (the lengthy “Accidents”). Thunderclap Newman disappeared in a flash, although that didn't spell the end for at least one of its members. Guitarist Jimmy McCulloch played with Stone the Crows and Paul McCartney’s Wings before ending his career with a band called The Dukes. He passed away from a drug overdose in 1979 at the age of 26.

Notes: Pianist Andy “Thunderclap” Newman recently assembled a new version of the band (www.thunderclapnewman.com/tn/). Oh, and here is an audio-only YouTube clip of “Something in the Air:” www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q_srFu5slZU.

Parish Hall

2009-10-08T10:25:00.003-04:00

Delivering a delicious blend of superb musicianship, top-notch songwriting and a surprisingly controlled level of restraint, Parish Hall is an eye-popping, ear-splitting, mind-numbing combination of acid-tinged psychedelia and blues-based hard rock. Led by vocalist/guitarist Gary Wagner (it’s his image that appears on the front cover), this California-based power trio released its self-titled debut lp in 1970 on Fantasy Records (the same label for which Creedence Clearwater Revival recorded). The album moves seamlessly from stoner rock (“My Eyes Are Getting Heavy,” “Skid Row Runner” and “Lucanna”) to more blues-influenced numbers (“Dynaflow,” “We’re Gonna Burn Together” and “Somebody Got the Blues”). There's even a slightly jazz-oriented shuffle called “Ain’t Feelin’ Too Bad,” quite possibly the group's finest moment. In addition, everything is quick and compact; only one song runs longer than four minutes. The band's fluid guitar leads, extremely tight rhythm section and more than competent vocal work produced one of the decade's grittier platters of '70s-era hard rock, which makes Parish Hall's failure to find an audience a true mystery. What's even more of a mystery is how you are going to get a copy; the company that reissued Parish Hall on cd a couple of years ago has seemingly gone out of business.

Notes: Parish Hall's "My Eyes Are Getting Heavy:" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xycB_AuIWq0&feature=PlayList&p=1409D00248A62110&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=1.

Demon Fuzz ● Afreaka!

2009-09-24T16:46:00.005-04:00

It’s an album like Afreaka! that helps The "I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy" CD Consumer’s Guide achieve its ultimate goal of unearthing the most obscure musical artifacts from the 1970s. First released in 1970 on Dawn Records, the material on this five-song lp is, as best described by Thom Jurek at www.allmusic.com, “a wild mash of Afro-Latin funk, breakbeats, tripped-out soul, jazz fusion, and psychedelic journeying.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. The album is largely made up of lengthy instrumental passages, a varied collection of driving rhythmic patterns, heavy bass runs and punchy horn breaks. The lyrical content, though limited, reveals subject matter that is just as relevant today as it was back in 1970. Who can’t relate to a “Disillusioned Man” trying to deliver a “Message to Mankind” while envisioning life in “Another Country?” “Hymn to Mother Earth” is another track whose social message holds up well in 2009 (I’m not sure the same can be said for “Fuzz Oriental Blues”). This was the only recorded output from Demon Fuzz, although Dawn also released a three-song maxi-single that featured a cover of Screamin’ Jay Hawkins’s “I Put a Spell on You.” This is about as straightforward as the band gets. Everything else is complex, challenging, slightly confusing and ultimately captivating.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of “Another Country” by Demon Fuzz: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IkdvgYBrYVU. I dare you to play all eight minutes plus.

Maximillian

2009-09-22T09:05:00.005-04:00

Let’s start with the basics: Mojack Maximillian may be the greatest rock and roll name you’ve never heard. It’s his surname that serves as the moniker for this New York City-based power trio that cut its first and only album in 1969 for ABC Records. Comparisons to Jimi Hendrix are inevitable—a young, black guitarist heading up a three-man band heavily steeped in late ‘60s psychedelic acid rock—but that’s neither entirely accurate nor completely fair. There are a handful of riff-based rockers, of course, including “Kickin’ 9 to 5,” “The Road Rat,” “The Name of the Game” and “New Lover,” but Maximillian on the whole is just as much rooted in soul and funk as it is in the hard rock pyrotechnics that Hendrix pursued. The lyrics aren’t great (“she left a scar in my memory/she put a cut deep within my little brain/the scar still shows/I feel the pain”) and the vocals are even worse (singing in tune doesn’t appear to be a priority for these guys), but it’s probably not a stretch to suggest that Maximillian belongs on the same family tree that links Hendrix and Sly and the Family Stone. Incidentally, it would appear great names run in the Maxmillian family: Mojack’s brother, Moby, is the band’s bass player.

Graeme Edge Band ● Kick Off Your Muddy Boots

2009-09-17T13:19:00.012-04:00

Another impressive entry from the decade’s fantasy-based album artwork craze, Kick Off Your Muddy Boots, the 1975 debut album from the Graeme Edge Band, features a cover graphic by Joe Petagno. I don’t know who that is, but the man certainly knows his way around with a paint brush. His cover is way cool. So is this album. Graeme Edge, best known as the drummer for the Moody Blues, took advantage of that band’s mid-‘70s sabbatical to release two solo records with guitarist Adrian Gurvitz. Despite the aggressive artwork and the inclusion of the ever-employable Gurvitz (resume: Gun, Three Man Army and the Baker-Gurvitz Army), Kick Off Your Muddy Boots is more progressive pop than hard rock. There are plenty of punishing guitar bits—listen to “The Tunnel,” a rapid fire guitar instrumental, for example—but the prominent use of keyboards, horns and strings lends the record a decidedly mellow vibe. “Have You Ever Wondered” is a dreamy soft-rock number, while “My Life’s Not Wasted” and “Something We’d Like to Say” feature a unique combination of electric rock instrumentation and lush orchestral arrangements. The surprise here is the influence of Gurvitz, who wrote and sings lead on several of the tracks (his brother Paul is also on board as the band’s bass player). Kick Off Your Muddy Boots was not a huge success—it peaked at #107 on Billboard’s Top 200 album chart—but sold enough to warrant a follow-up; 1977’s Paradise Ballroom also charted, but turned out to be the group’s final offering.

Notes: It turns out that maybe I do know Joe Petagno. He’s apparently done work artwork for Led Zeppelin, Motorhead, Nazareth, Pink Floyd and Sweet. He even has his own web site: www.petagno.dk.

Trigger

2009-08-27T15:17:00.010-04:00

Trigger has a song called “Rockin’ Cross the U.S.A.,” an autobiographical song that supposedly recounts the band’s rise to stardom. There are references to getting “together one night,” starting “up a rock and roll band” and playing in front of people that “can’t sit still in their seats.” The group eventually makes it to the west coast via Boston and Detroit, ultimately establishing the mantra of any hardworking band: "Sorry we can't stay." Wishful thinking perhaps, for record sales indicate a touring schedule that probably didn’t veer far from the band’s native New Jersey. That’s not entirely fair, of course, Trigger’s 1978 self-titled debut falling through the cracks at an already stumbling Casablanca Records. Delivered to Neil Bogart’s label via Kiss bassist Gene Simmons, Trigger’s lone record is an irritatingly catchy collection of late ‘70s hard rock. “Somebody Like You,” “Gimme Your Love” and “Beware of Strangers” best represent the band’s penchant for irresistible hooks, memorable melodies and heavy guitar licks, while “Baby Don’t Cry,” an early variation of the soon-to-be-everywhere power ballad, incorporates some impressive vocal harmonies. The lyrics at times lean towards the mundane—“I got a deadly weapon and I’m aimin’ at you/deadly weapon so you better talk through”—but the group’s musical energy is infectious. The last song on the album—the painfully ironic “We’re Going to Make It”—reveals a confident if naive band, a group unaware of the business pitfalls that lay in wait. The band didn’t make it, of course, its brief trek rockin’ across the U.S.A. over after a series of demos for a second unreleased album.

Notes: Trigger has its own web site (http://www.triggerrocks.com/) and MySpace page (www.myspace.com/triggercasablanca).

Painter

2009-08-17T09:09:00.004-04:00

Painter’s “West Coast Woman” may be the best song you’ve never heard. A bruising three minutes of blue-collar hard rock—these guys aren’t wearing denim and flannel for no reason—the song was a minor chart entry here in the States, but a Top 20 hit in the band’s native Canada. There is one other reason this Calgary-based quintet should have hit it big: The ‘70s-styled one-word band name with accompanying rock star logo (a true measure of coolness for any self-respecting group). Success didn’t happen, of course, and Painter disappeared shortly after the release of its self-titled debut. “West Coast Woman” is the best track on the album, but the record as a whole is full of meaty riff-based rockers. “Space Truck” speeds along at an intergalactic pace (“drippin’ moon dust/in my space truck/on the way to Mars…”), while “Goin’ Home to Rock ‘n Roll,” “Oh! You” and “Slave Driver” are satisfying slices of well-cooked Canadian bacon (food analogy translation: they rock). In the end, Painter poses a question so often asked by The I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy CD Consumer's Guide. “Tell me,” the band wonders in “Tell Me Why,” a country-styled rocker. “Why do the old songs never die?” Sadly, the group wasn’t referring to its own material. Painter died a quick death, its “West Coast Woman” a fitting if long-forgotten epitaph.

Notes: “West Coast Woman.” YouTube. Play loud. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9gCfw4cug6c&feature=related.

Fat Mattress

2009-08-06T09:02:00.003-04:00

Fat Mattress is one of those laughably bad ‘70s band names, the sort of moniker that usually emerges after a heavy night of drinking (you may think I’m kidding, but the first song on this record is actually called “All Night Drinker”). There is nothing particularly funny about the group’s music, however, a lightweight collection of psychedelic-flavored hippie rock. A short-lived, two-record quartet led by former Jimi Hendrix Experience bassist Noel Redding, Fat Mattress released its debut album in 1969 on Polydor Records. “Everything’s Blue” and the aforementioned “All Night Drinker” are two of the lp’s more inspired hard rock moments, both successfully escaping the otherwise muddled mix of acoustic guitars and swirling woodwinds. The lyrically and musically challenged “Petrol Pump Assistant” and “Iridescent Butterfly” are more representative of the group’s material, however, two songs saddled with odd references to the “man” who “got down off his ship” and “flowers reading poetry”. The album’s biggest claim to fame is the song “Magic Forest,” a bouncy, up-tempo track that apparently was a huge hit… in Holland. The band released one final record—the unimaginatively titled Fat Mattress II—before calling it a day. Redding formed a horrendous band called Road, while the remaining members recorded tracks for an unreleased third album.

Notes: I actually found a great Fat Mattress song called “Cold Wall of Stone.” It never found its way on to an official release, but appears as one of six bonus tracks on Esoteric’s 2009 reissue of the band’s second album. Here is an audio-only YouTube clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hH0V5Ws3P-g&feature=related.

Bulldog Breed ● Made in England

2009-07-22T09:09:00.005-04:00

This band was originally called Faith, Hope & Charity. Fortunately someone got sober long enough to realize the atrocity of such a name and rechristened the group Bulldog Breed, a far superior moniker for a late ‘60s psychedelic pop/rock outfit. Made in England, first released in 1970 on Deram’s Nova imprint, is a somewhat random mix of punchy, hard rock numbers and lightweight, whimsical pop songs. “I Flew,” a nod to the ready-for-battle airplanes on the front cover, captures the band at its peak, a driving, riff-heavy patriotic ode to war… or a not-so-subtle hint at getting high (“I flew into a strange town last night/on wings of fire/I flew into a bad trip alright/a funeral pyre”). Similarly, “Paper Man,” “Sheba's Broomstick Ride” and “Reborn” are near-perfect slabs of three-minute guitar rock. The band’s more experimental efforts aren’t as impressive. “You” is a puzzling jazz-styled, cocktail-lounge number, while “Austin Osmanspare” is a downright creepy tale about a supposed occultist. The 2009 Grapefruit reissue closes with a fiery if slightly warped psychedelic non-lp single called “Halo in My Hair.” A few more nuggets like this and Bulldog Breed’s story might have ended differently. As it was, the band closed up shop shortly before Made in England’s delayed release. Drummer Louie Farrell hooked up with Adrian and Paul Gurvitz in Gun; bassist Bernie Jinks formed a band called T2 and released an album called It’ll All Work Out in Boomland.

Notes: "I Flew" from Bulldog Breed: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-sIEA7uxC8.

Three Man Army

2009-07-13T13:08:00.008-04:00

Someone recently told me she has yet to recognize one single album reviewed here at The "I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide. Whew. I must be doing something right. Let’s hope that streak continues with Three Man Army, the self-titled second album from Adrian and Paul Gurvitz (guitar and bass, respectively) and Tony Newman (drums). The Gurvitz brothers actually got their start in a two-record band called Gun (best known for a brilliant single called “Race with the Devil”) and ended their career nearly a decade later when they teamed up with Cream drummer Ginger Baker in the Baker Gurvitz Army. Sandwiched in between was Three Man Army, a very heavy, very guitar-driven power trio that dropped its first Reprise lp in 1973. “Come on Down to Earth” and “Can’t Leave the Summer/Part 1 & 2” reflect the band’s pulverizing six-string guitar attack, while “Hold On” features an impressive array of percussive drum fills. Strangely, the best song on the album is the toned-down “Take a Look at the Light,” a subtle reminder that loud and fast don't always make for good rock songs. Plagued by a lack of radio success, the group was never able to emerge from warm-up status. For those looking for a blast of ‘70s hard rock pyrotechnics, however, Three Man Army is worth a spin.

Notes: The Gurvitz brothers didn’t score a hit with Three Man Army, but they certainly did with Gun. Check out this video of the band performing “Race with the Devil,” a psychedelic hard rock classic covered by the likes of Black Oak Arkansas, Girlschool and Judas Priest: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bvMETCQAf1w.

Sweetwater

2009-07-01T09:22:00.007-04:00

The one reason you should know Sweetwater: They were the first band* to take the stage at Woodstock (it’s a hoot listening to lead singer Nancy Nevins as she addresses the crowd: “Wow… there sure are a lot of people here… I hope this festival turns out real nice…”). That’s a fairly decent performance for which to be remembered—and a great piece of trivia for your next party—but it does little to solve the problem of the band’s severely dated and directionless mix of psychedelic pop, acid folk and jazz-oriented hard rock. Sweetwater’s self-titled debut, first released in 1968, was the first of three records the band recorded for the Reprise label and the only one to feature Nevins from start to finish (her vocal chords were damaged in a 1969 auto accident). “Motherless Child” and “My Crystal Spider” represent the band at its peak, two songs in possession of effective vocal performances and complex, challenging instrumental passages. “Why Oh Why,” however, an odd swing-flavored duet with 1950s-styled rockabilly guitar and a punchy horn section, reveals a band in desperate need of direction. A prime example of the schizophrenic musical tendencies of the late ‘60s, Sweetwater’s legacy rests not on its recorded output, but a brief, 45-minute appearance at the decade’s most famous rock festival.

*Sweetwater was the first group to perform at Woodstock, but not the first artist. That honor belongs to Richie Havens.

Notes: It’s long out of print, but Cycles: The Reprise Collection, a 1999 limited edition compilation from Rhino Handmade, does a great job of highlighting the best tracks from all three of the band’s albums. It also includes an ultra-rare version of the band performing “What’s Wrong” at Woodstock.

Man ● 2 Ozs of Plastic with a Hole in the Middle

2009-06-24T09:06:00.007-04:00

2 Ozs of Plastic with a Hole in the Middle really cuts to the chase, doesn’t it? What better way to describe a two-sided slab of recorded vinyl? Take that title and connect the musical dots—a Welsh band called Man, a lead guitar player by the name of Deke and a song mistakenly referred to as “Spunk Box”—and you’ve got yourself a rather unusual artifact of late ‘60s psychedelic acid rock. First released in 1969, 2 Ozs of Plastic with a Hole in the Middle represents the second and final album Man recorded for the Dawn label (they would sign with United Artists a year later and record consistently for the next decade). “It Is As It Must Be” (originally called “Shit on the World”) and “Brother Arnold's Red and White Striped Tent” are the album’s best tracks, two guitar-fueled rockers centered around a couple of heavy riffs. The studio version of the aforementioned “Spunk Box” is far tamer than the live version that became a concert staple, but it’s interesting to hear the song at its conception. Three other songs—two instrumentals and a slightly offbeat country rock number—round out the proceedings. Man survived well into the 1970s, its 2 Ozs of Plastic with a Hole in the Middle ultimately becoming one of the lost oddities of the band’s vast catalog.

Notes: It’s my understanding that “spunk” is a UK slang term for semen. Needless to say, the label wasn’t thrilled when the band delivered a song called “Spunk Rock.” Dawn Records decided to change the name without the group’s approval. One problem: They changed the wrong word. “Rock” became “Box” and “Spunk Box” became a concert favorite.

Blue Mountain Eagle

2009-06-15T09:11:00.005-04:00

Reportedly named after a local newspaper in Fox, Idaho, Blue Mountain Eagle was essentially an offshoot from New Buffalo, itself the fatherless child of the highly regarded but short-lived Buffalo Springfield. Got it? Regardless of its origins, the band’s one and only album, first released in 1970 on Atco Records, is a superb, smoldering collection of guitar-heavy, harmony-laced, country-tinged acid rock. The band plugs in and rocks hard on numerous cuts, including “Feel Like a Bandit,” “Loveless Lives” and “Sweet Mama,” all riddled with nasty fuzz guitar. Even the more laid back numbers—“No Regrets” and “Promise of Love,” for example—are full of grittiness and bite. Collectors will be interested in the Stephen Stills-penned “Marianne,” the b-side to the group’s first single, included here as a bonus track in both its stereo and mono mixes, while trivia buffs will note that bass player Randy Fuller is the younger brother of Bobby Fuller of the Bobby Fuller Four (“I Fought the Law”). I’m always slightly depressed when I stumble upon a great record no one has ever heard. That Blue Mountain Eagle sits atop the vast vinyl scrap heap of long-forgotten ‘70s music is a true rock and roll tragedy.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of Blue Mountain Eagle's "Love is Here:" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdGELXbv2do&playnext=1&list=PL6354E5FECC840872&index=2.

Fire ● The Magic Shoemaker

2009-06-01T09:11:00.003-04:00

The early ‘70s gave rise to a host of experimental musical projects, none more unusual than Fire’s The Magic Shoemaker, an early concept album about a cobbler named Mark and his pair of magic shoes (“He’s a shoemaker… he made some magic boots… when he put the boots on/he flew like a white swan”). The record features a narrator who appears in between each song, dutifully advancing the tale of two warring kingdoms. Despite the quirky story line, this rock and roll fairy tale incorporates plenty of psychedelic hard rock riffs and fanciful progressive-tinged elements in tracing Mark’s journey to save the world. “Shoemaker” best describes the narrative, a mournful ballad featuring some impressive acoustic guitar work and an impassioned vocal from singer Dave Lambert. The remaining tracks shift effortlessly between guitar-heavy hard rock and acoustic-based, more pop-oriented fare. “Flies Like a Bird” and “I Can See the Sky” reveal the group’s penchant for psychedelic heaviness, while the piano-laden “Only a Dream” unveils a more delicate approach. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined recommending an album about a pair of magic shoes, but The Magic Shoemaker is a bona fide winner, an excellent representation of the early stages of conceptual hard rock.

Pulse

2009-05-26T15:32:00.003-04:00

This nine-song collection of turn-of-the-decade hard rock first appeared in 1969 on a small independent label called Poison Ring Records. Originally conceived by six longhairs from New Haven, Connecticut, Pulse clumsily wobbles along through an already over-populated field of acid-induced, blues-influenced psychedelic garage rock. The band occasionally—and almost luckily, it would seem—stumbles upon a nifty riff or two (see “She’s Killin’ Me,” “Amassilation” and “My Old Boy”), and lead singer Carl Donnell isn’t half bad, but most of the band's material is completely ineffective and unmemorable. What almost saves this reissue—at least in terms of pure entertainment value—is the inclusion of two bonus tracks, both of which pre-date the original lp. The first, “Can Can Girl,” sounds like a not-so-good high school marching band; the second, a spoken-word piece called “Burritt Bradley,” conjures up images of Vincent Price in one of those schlock-fest horror flicks from the 1950s. Sample lyric: “For those of you who don’t know/what the absolute truth is/let me start by telling you/that I no longer am/I once had a physical body/but I gave it up long ago…” Overblown, pretentious and comically ridiculous. God bless the ‘60s.

Goodthunder

2009-05-14T09:23:00.008-04:00

This band has a song called “Barking at the Ants.” Couple that with a far-out piece of psychedelic cover art and an album that’s probably been out of print for close to 35 years and you’ve got yourself a prime candidate for The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide. First released in 1972 on Elektra Records, Goodthunder was produced by Paul Rothchild (best known for his work with The Doors). “For a Breath,” “Home Again” and “P.O.W.” best represent the band’s hard-hitting yet complex approach, the varying time changes and elaborate song structures creating a deliciously odd collection of progressive-based hard rock. The band’s creative sensibilities aren’t limited to the record’s numerous drum breaks, keyboard fills and guitar riffs. Lyrically, too, Goodthunder displays a flair for the imaginative: “Moonship square your sails/For lands uncharted/Faceless ghosts appear/Your dreams have started,” declares the group in “Moonship,” a ‘70s-styled space odyssey. “Feel crystal flames/Thru the rain/It’s driving me insane.” Speaking of lyrics, the aforementioned “Barking at the Ants” has nothing to do with barking or ants. In fact, I have no idea what it’s about. Consider its dizzyingly intricate instrumental passages a fitting conclusion to an album full of great surprises.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of "I Can't Get Thru to You" by Goodthunder: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gg_q9_K0LDM.

The Devil's Anvil ● Hard Rock from the Middle East

2009-05-05T16:06:00.005-04:00

This album is either uproariously funny (see: the front cover) or devastatingly sad (I own a copy). First released in 1967 on Columbia Records, The Devil’s Anvil’s Hard Rock from the Middle East is exactly what it sounds like—heavy pop-rock tracks accompanied by a host of Middle Eastern instruments, including the bouzouki, the oud and the tamboura. There is plenty of guitar, drums and keyboards, too—future Mountain co-founder Felix Pappalardi is inexplicably on board as the band’s vocalist/bassist—but the focus here is clearly on creating psychedelic acid rock with an Arabic twist. The songs themselves, a collection of mostly traditional numbers (“Wala Dai,” “Selim Alai,” “Hala Laya” and the oft-covered “Misirlou”), change little from track to track. In a nutshell: Lots of fuzz guitar, pounding drumbeats, heavy bass lines and several lyrics of a non-English variety. Legend has it the album was released on the eve of the Arab-Israeli War, which ultimately killed any chance the band had at radio airplay (the lack of commercial material might also have been a factor). The end result? A quick fade to black and an entry here at The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide. Good things come to those who wait.

Notes: The most recognizable take on “Misirlou” is the 1962 version from Dick Dale and His Del-Tones. You probably don’t remember it… unless you’re a fan of Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2K14qx3IKe8.

Andwella's Dream ● Love and Poetry

2009-04-27T09:37:00.004-04:00

Who is Andwella? Why is there no apostrophe used to describe her dream? Is the front cover of this album representative of what an acid trip might look like? Ok, enough with the questions. Let’s rock. And rock we shall, Andwella’s Dream turning in a steamy collection of late ‘60s psychedelic acid rock. Love and Poetry, first released in 1969 on CBS Records, represents the sole offering from this Irish-based trio (at some point the dream must have turned into a nightmare; the band eventually shortened its name to Andwella and released two additional records for the Dunhill label). The album, a combination of muscular hard rock and pop-oriented psychedelia, has very little to do with love or poetry. The self-explanatory “Cocaine” is a moody mid-tempo rocker that quickly morphs into a jazz-inspired romp, while the similarly constructed “Andwella” offers up a somber mix of electric guitar and Hammond organ. The remaining 11 tracks follow suit, each song veering between progressive-tinged rock and acoustic-flavored folk. By the way, it turns out I don’t own every record you’d never buy. I recently noticed an original mint copy of this album for sale on eBay. The highest bidder was offering $1,030.19, a number that may well represent the first ever record collector’s stimulus package.

Notes: The 2009 Sunbeam reissue reproduces several promotional items from the band’s 1969-1971 lifespan. These posters, billboards and advertisements use the apostrophe in Andwella’s Dream, which is different from what appears on the front cover. I’ve decided to use the corrected spelling.

Paul Brett Sage

2009-04-17T09:37:00.004-04:00

There are two great things about Paul Brett Sage. First is the absolutely brilliant “3D Mona Lisa,” a pulsating, conga-driven rocker. The second is the name of the band’s flautist, Nicky Higginbottom, a truly excellent moniker for just about anyone who plays an instrument. The rest of the band’s debut, first released in 1970 on Pye Records, is a pleasant collection of largely acoustic-based folk rock. The album kicks off with a bang, the aforementioned “3D Mona Lisa” proving to be one of the era’s more promising singles. “Trophies of War” and “Mediterranean Lazy Heat Wave” are like-minded numbers—guitar-heavy pop rock with plenty of melodic hooks and catchy choruses—while “The Sun Died” and “Reason for Your Askin’” are mellower, more introspective affairs. I tend to dislike woodwinds in my rock and roll, but the quartet’s subtle use of the flute on songs like “Little Aztec Prince” and “The Tower” is surprisingly effective. Unlike many of the artists featured here at The "I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide, Paul Brett Sage was not a one-album studio project. Two additional lps didn’t enhance the band’s commercial fortunes, however, and they broke up in 1972.

Notes: I’m of the opinion that “3D Mona Lisa” should have been a huge hit. Decide for yourself: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QKnxzEm5eTY. Also, check out the band’s MySpace page at http://www.myspace.com/paulbrettssage. Recommended: “Little Aztec Prince” from the self-titled debut and “Custom Angel Man” from Schizophrenia (1972).

Pete Brown & Piblokto! ● Things May Come and Things May Go, But the Art School Dance Goes on Forever

2009-04-08T09:35:00.007-04:00

The good: Pete Brown co-wrote the lyrics to a handful of hits for Cream, including “I Feel Free” “Sunshine of Your Love” and “White Room.” The bad: He decided to call his band Piblokto! (exclamation point included). The ugly: The group’s first record was titled Things May Come and Things May Go, But the Art School Dance Goes on Forever. First released in 1970 on Harvest Records, Pete Brown and Piblokto!’s debut album features an unusual mix of progressive psychedelia and jazz-oriented hard rock. Brown got his start as a poet (check out his unusual lyrical prowess on “High Flying Electric Bird”), but a vocalist the man is not. Fortunately, there are plenty of impressive instrumental passages that help overshadow Brown’s off-key warbling. Both the title track and “Walk for Charity, Run for Money” are hard-charging, guitar-driven rockers, while “Someone Like You” and “Golden Country Kingdom” reveal a more reflective, acoustic-based sound. Things May Come and Things May Go, But the Art School Dance Goes on Forever is probably not for everyone—Brown’s voice is an acquired taste at best—but it’s a decent representation of the underground rock movement as it existed at the turn of the decade. Incidentally, the 2009 Repertoire reissue includes an interview with Brown, in which he explains the strange band name: “… an Eskimo word, it referred to an itching ailment best relieved by exposure to the Arctic cold.” Good to know.

Notes: There is a MySpace page devoted to Pete Brown and Piblokto! Visit http://www.myspace.com/petebrownpiblokto7071 to hear tracks from both the band’s debut and its follow up, Thousands on a Raft. Recommended: “Aeroplane Head Woman.”

Wally

2009-03-26T16:32:00.006-04:00

This album was co-produced by Yes keyboardist Rick Wakeman, but don’t let that fool you. What has all the trappings of an early ‘70s progressive-rock record—six elongated songs of varying complexity, other-worldly cover art and the always odd and somewhat creepy electric violin—is in fact a tastefully eclectic collection of English-based soft rock with a splash of country-flavored Americana (see: “I Just Wanna Be a Cowboy”). First released in 1974 on Atlantic Records, Wally is unique in its art-rock tendencies in that it often eschews overblown pomposity for gentler, more acoustic-styled influences. “Sunday Walking Lady” is perhaps the best example of the band’s melodic pop leanings and spot-on vocal harmonies (although this track also makes heavy use of the aforementioned electric violin… whose idea was it to plug in a Stradivarius anyway?). Wakeman fans will be happy to learn the band doesn’t stray too far from its progressive roots. “The Martyr” is a lengthy track that mercifully if only briefly abandons the strings for a much-needed jolt of power chord pyrotechnics, while “To the Urban Man” is a nearly 15-minute walk through a maze of psychedelic heaviness. Both interesting and unique, Wally probably deserved better. Sadly, the band managed to squeeze out just one more record—1975’s Valley Gardens—before calling it a day.

Notes: Look what I found! A YouTube clip of Wally performing "Sunday Walking Lady" on "The Old Grey Whistle Test," a UK-based television show that ran from 1971 to 1987: http://www.youtube.com/watch?gl=GB&hl=en-GB&v=EmFvZE8-djc.

Flint

2009-03-16T14:16:00.010-04:00

There is something mildly intriguing about an album no one likes. Take this self-titled debut album from what was once three quarters of Grand Funk Railroad, for example. After that Michigan-based quartet split in 1977, guitarist Mark Farner signed a two-record deal with Atlantic, while his former band mates—drummer Don Brewer, bassist Mel Schacher and keyboardist Craig Frost—signed on for what turned out to be a one-off studio project for Columbia. Joe Viglione at http://www.allmusic.com/ calls portions of the album “faceless,” “calculated” and “diluted,” while Martin Popoff, in his The Collector’s Guide to Heavy Metal, Volume I: The Seventies, deems the entire affair “awful.” Based on these less than glowing recommendations, Flint is something The I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy CD Consumer’s Guide just had to get its hands on. The album starts off well enough, the group’s cover of the Supremes' “Back in My Arms Again” proving an effective introduction to the band’s brand of soul-based funk rock. The rest of the album finds the group trading in its hard rock credentials for a stab at blue-eyed easy listening. “Keep Me Warm,” with its female backing vocals and saxophone fills, typifies the trio’s Motown-influenced approach, while “You Got it All Wrong” straddles a dangerously thin line between pop and disco. I'm not sure this record qualifies as "awful," but even guest appearances from Todd Rundgren, Frank Zappa and Wet Willie’s Jimmy Hall can't hide the obvious: The best thing about Flint is the haircuts.

Mars Bonfire ● Faster Than the Speed of Life

2009-03-06T15:11:00.003-05:00

I wish I were Mars Bonfire. I’d have a really cool name, of course, and I’d be collecting songwriting royalties on “Born to Be Wild,” a song I wrote for Steppenwolf. Oh, and some oddball would be reviewing the cd reissue of my one and only solo album on his blog. Faster Than the Speed of Life, a late ‘60s slice of organ-heavy pop/rock, first appeared as a self-titled project in 1968 on UNI Records (the album was re-titled, repackaged and reissued a year later by Columbia). It’s a relaxed affair, a far more laid-back effort than one might expect from someone with connections to the Steppenwolf name. Understand, for example, that Bonfire’s own version of “Born to Be Wild”—complete with acoustic guitars(!)—is hardly reminiscent of the hard-hitting heavy metal version that appears in Dennis Hopper’s Easy Rider. So it goes—lightweight fare with nary a hint of the era’s psychedelic heaviness. “Sad Eyes” sounds a bit like the Association, for example, and “How Much Older Will We Grow?” conjures up images of the Beatles (I probably don’t need to remind you that neither of these bands qualifies as a hard rock ensemble). Ultimately, Faster Than the Speed of Life is best described as easy listening for the biker set. Go figure.

Notes: Bonfire’s real name is Dennis Eugene McCrohan, which he initially changed to Dennis Edmonton. His brother, Jerry, was the drummer for Steppenwolf until 1976.

Quatrain

2009-02-19T11:10:00.003-05:00

Perhaps the most interesting thing about Quatrain is that it was originally pressed with the songs from side one appearing in duplicate; there was no side two. That’s what you get when you record an album for a label co-owned by a comedian (more on that later). First released in 1969 on Tetragrammaton Records, Quatrain is a generic, rather bland collection of late ‘60s psychedelic acid rock. The album, saddled by poor promotion, weak vocal work and awkward hippie-influenced lyrical references (“there are the young ones who seek the light to see”), is ultimately buried by the band’s largely forgettable songwriting. There are a couple of memorable moments amidst the wave of musical mediocrity. “Black Lily” and “Try to Live Again” are salvaged by the occasional hard rock riff, for example, while “The Tree” is an adventurous slice of psychedelia with a nod towards the progressive. As if the banality of the original lp wasn’t enough, the 2008 Sundazed cd reissue includes a whopping eight bonus tracks, all of which are similarly constructed paint-by-the-numbers hard rock (in what might be a rock first, however, the song “Towering Buildings” uses the French term “nom de plume”). Hardly required listening, Quatrain is at best an odd curio for collectors only.

Notes: Tetragrammaton Records was a short-lived label co-owned by Bill Cosby. In addition to issuing the first four Deep Purple albums here in the US, the label was best known for releasing Two Virgins, the infamous 1970 John Lennon and Yoko Ono album that featured the two artists nude on the front cover. The company went out of business later that year. For more on the history of Tetragrammaton Records, visit http://bsnpubs.com/.

Love Sculpture ● Forms and Feelings

2009-02-10T10:27:00.010-05:00

Confession: I would never name my band Love Sculpture. Then again, I’ve never been in a group called The Human Beans, which is what this UK-based trio started out as when they first formed in 1967. It probably didn’t matter what they called themselves, however, for this short-lived musical venture was a commercial disappointment. Ultimately a showcase for guitarist Dave Edmunds—he of “I Hear You Knocking” fame—Love Sculpture was a blues-influenced hard rock band that recorded two albums for Island Records. Forms and Feelings, the group’s final offering from 1969, is best remembered for its scorching psychedelic version of Aram Khachaturian’s “Sabre Dance” (reworking classical music must have been a fad; the band also turns on its head “Mars” from Gustov Holst’s 1918 orchestral suite “The Planets”). Nothing else on the album comes close to matching the adventurous creativity and instrumental prowess of the aforementioned “Sabre Dance,” although “In the Land of the Few” and the plaintive ballad “Seagull” are decent representations of the band’s original material. By the time Edmunds shreds his way through yet another instrumental piece—“Farandole,” a traditional French dance—the novelty seems to have worn off. Perhaps the band agreed. Love Sculpture disbanded in 1970, its guitarist just months away from solo stardom.

Notes: Here is a 1968 live recording of Love Sculpture's "Sabre Dance:" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OIBgRPUcwt4.

Fuzzy Duck

2009-02-05T11:33:00.005-05:00

Fact: Fuzzy Duck is the name of a drinking game (say “fuzzy duck” and “ducky fuzz” a few times fast and you'll figure it out). First released in 1971 on the MAM label, a subsidiary of Decca, Fuzzy Duck is an intense, smoldering collection of early ‘70s British progressive hard rock. Bolstered by a core group of veteran rockers (members had previously played with the Five Day a Week Straw People, Andromeda and Tucky Buzzard), this eight-song lp is centered around the fiery, riff-laden guitar work of Grahame White and a healthy dose of heavy, mind-numbing organ play courtesy of Roy Sharland. Highlights include “Time Will Be Your Doctor” (also covered by the aforementioned Tucky Buzzard), the almost jazz-like “Mrs. Prout,” and a funky instrumental track called “A Word from Big D” (complete with duck sounds). Everything else lumbers along as it should within the confines of 1971 psychedelia—nifty guitar and keyboard solos, a thumping rhythm section, quality vocal work and just a pinch of extended jamming. Forget the odd name and wacky cover art—Fuzzy Duck is a true classic.

Notes: The 2007 Repertoire Records cd reissue features four bonus tracks, including a strange, completely out of place song called “Big Brass Band” (the other three cuts are B-grade hard rock).

East

2009-01-27T10:07:00.003-05:00

There are rock and roll oddities… and then there are rock and roll oddities. East, five Japanese transplants who released one self-titled album on Capitol Records in 1972, may well be the oddest of oddballs, the musical equivalent of the side show freaks at your local carnival. Best described as psychedelic folk rock, East is a rather somber, depressing collection of lilting ballads and acoustic-based, country-styled rock songs (see “Deaf Eyed Julie” and “Black Hearted Woman,” for example). There are exceptions. “Geese on the Road” and “Lumberer Moses” are slightly more upbeat takes on the band’s overall sound, and the group’s use of traditional Japanese instruments, including the shakuhachi, koto and taisho-goto, provides a nice touch on tracks like “Call Back the Wind” and “Jar.” Throw in some spoken-word bits, a traditional Japanese folk song called “Shin Shallonh” and five native Japanese gentlemen singing in English and you've got yourself one highly unusual collectable.

Notes: It would be a mistake not to mention the band biographies that make up the original liner notes, which have been faithfully reproduced for this cd reissue. For example, Ted Yoshikawa was “a whiz at impersonations,” Gen Morita “mastered Japanese flute, shakuhachi and koto in three days,” and Noboru Asahi was “interested in creating a feeling of Zen in his music, something that remains inside you… alone in the blind wall.” A strange addendum to one of the stranger artifacts of obscure ‘70s rock… blind wall and all.

National Head Band ● Albert 1

2009-01-14T11:44:00.007-05:00

There are many reasons I shouldn’t like this record. The band name is awful, the album title is inexplicable and the cover art is just plain odd. It’s a good thing I’m not one to judge a book by its cover, however, otherwise I’d be missing out on a truly intriguing slice of UK-based progressive rock. National Head Band’s Albert 1, first released in 1971 on Warner Bros. Records, is one of the more creative efforts from the decade’s art-rock archives. Replacing the genre’s standard hard rock instrumentation with a generous helping of piano, acoustic guitar and multi-part harmony, Albert 1 is a well-crafted collection of complex, multi-layered pop songs. “Too Much Country Water” and “Brand New World” are the album’s cornerstones, both representing the band’s deceptively simplistic yet intricate approach, while “Listen to the Music” and “Try to Reach You” are rich with catchy choruses and melodic hooks. “Mister Jesus” delivers the only real hard rock moment—a blistering keyboard introduction—but this song quickly falls in line with the rest of the record’s overwhelmingly mellow vibe. National Head Band didn’t last long, but drummer Lee Kerslake and keyboardist Jan Schelhaas soon found employment elsewhere; Kerslake joined Uriah Heep, while Schelhaas played with both Camel and Caravan.

This is the Magic Mixture

2009-01-06T11:31:00.006-05:00

Please tell me I’m not dreaming. I don’t think I could handle a world in which a band called The Magic Mixture didn’t really exist. This is the Magic Mixture, first released in 1968 on the small Saga label, is an unbelievably obscure record from the UK’s psychedelic underground. Armed with the essentials—a drug-related band name, trippy cover art—this London-based quartet used its one and only album to deliver a durable set of formulaic mid-tempo rockers. “(I’m So) Sad” and “It’s Alright by Me” best reflect the band’s brand of guitar-laden, Hammond organ-inspired pop rock, while “You” is a nod to the decade’s burgeoning hard rock movement. It’s the moody, jazz-influenced “Urge to Leave” and the psychedelic ballad “Living on a Hill,” however, that reveal the group’s bristling musical diversity, both providing a break from the foursome's heavier material. The Magic Mixture disappeared shortly after the release of this record, although that didn’t prevent at least one of its members from pursuing a career in music. Guitarist/vocalist Terry Thomas formed the group Charlie, who scored a Top 40 hit in 1983 with the song “It’s Inevitable.” He later produced albums for both Tommy Shaw (Styx) and Bad Company.

Notes: I rarely comment on the sound quality or production work of an album, but This is the Magic Mixture is atrocious on both counts. Legend has it the original 12 tracks for this lp were recorded in the record label’s owner’s basement, which alternatively served as a children’s nursery. The 2008 Sunbeam cd reissue provides an obvious upgrade, but it’s hard to disguise the blemishes that appear on an album that sounds like it was recorded in a paper bag.

Tramline ● Moves of Vegetable Centuries

2008-12-22T14:12:00.004-05:00

It’s sometimes hard to decide what albums to include here at "The I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy" CD Consumer’s Guide. Then something called Moves of Vegetable Centuries drops from the great big delete bin in the sky and, well, duh. Tramline’s second and final album, first released in 1969 on Island Records, is the follow-up to Somewhere Down the Line, the band’s not so spectacularly named debut. Like its predecessor, Moves of Vegetable Centuries is a fairly average collection of blues-infused hard rock. This UK-based quartet, led by guitarist Mickey Moody (later a member of Whitesnake), works its way through a combination of cover songs (“Pearly Queen” and “I Wish You Would”) and original compositions (“Sweet Satisfaction,” “Grunt” and “Harriet’s Underground Railway”) in delivering its brand of guitar-driven rhythm and blues. Tramline is musically proficient—the guitar playing is particularly impressive—but the band’s largely uninspired material lacks originality. Oh, and that album title? It turns out no one really knows what it means. The idea originally came from the album’s producer, Guy Stevens. Sadly, he died in 1981 at the age of 38, taking with him forever the secret of the mysterious vegetable centuries.

Dust

2008-12-10T10:10:00.002-05:00

Those investigating the birth of American heavy metal could do worse than to start with this New York-based power trio. Dust—guitarist/vocalist Richie Wise, bassist Kenny Aaronson and drummer Marc Bell—was a short-lived hard rock ensemble that released two albums for the Kama Sutra label, the first of which appeared in 1971. Long admired for both its obscure, collectable status and its psychedelic heaviness, Dust certainly looks metal (the gruesome front cover image appears courtesy of the Archives of the Catacombs… whatever that is). The music itself is a refreshing combination of standard rock instrumentation and more eclectic musical influences. “Chasin’ Ladies” and “Love Me Hard” are effective hard rock numbers, for example, while “Stone Woman” features a nasty slide guitar and “Goin’ Easy” is a blues-inspired acoustic piece. In addition, the record’s centerpiece, the lyrically bizarre “From a Dry Camel,” is a nearly ten-minute-long block of colossal prog-rock (“And then if a body runs dry/got no reason to fear/there is a camel near by/just let it lie down on its side/get yourself in place/and then go for a ride”). I’m not sure Dust deserves the lost classic tag it’s often prescribed, but its varied approach is an impressive take on the hard rock movement as it existed at the turn of the decade.

Notes: Dust split in 1972, but that didn’t prevent its members from pursuing careers in music. Richie Wise teamed up with Kenny Kerner to form a production team (they worked on the first two Kiss albums), while Kenny Aaronson became a member of Stories (he played on the sessions that produced “Brother Louie”). Marc Bell? He’s probably best known as Marky Ramone, an identity he assumed when he joined the Ramones in 1978.

Armageddon

2008-12-08T10:58:00.002-05:00

Martin Popoff, in his The Collector’s Guide to Heavy Metal, Volume I: The Seventies, the definitive source for all things ‘70s, all things heavy and all things obscure, describes Armageddon as the “crazy uncle in the A&M attic.” He says this with a certain amount of reverance, actually, even including it in his list of the Greatest 100 Obscure Heavy Metal Albums of the ‘70s. Surprising, I guess, because to these ears this is one of the worst records of the era’s progressive hard rock movement. A B-grade supergroup of sorts, this four-man band rose from the ashes of the Yardbirds (singer Keith Relf), Steamhammer (guitarist Martin Pugh) and Captain Beyond (drummer Bobby Caldwell), and dropped its one and only album in 1975. Don’t let the fact that this five-song self-titled debut hit the Billboard album charts fool you; aside from the monster riff heard in “Buzzard,” the lp’s opening track, Armageddon is a ponderous, overwrought musical exercise, full of go-nowhere guitar solos and incomprehensible lyrics (“shining chariots/bearing sacred souls/ride the surface/of the deepest holes?”). The album’s low point comes in the form of the four-part, 11-minute “Basking in the White of the Midnight Sun” (I’d go into more detail, but I can’t seem to listen to more than three minutes). As was the case of most ‘70s supergroups, a padded resume didn’t necessarily make for a great record. That was never more true than with Armageddon.

Marsupilami ● Arena

2008-11-21T09:12:00.005-05:00

My hat goes off to any band that builds a concept album around ancient Rome and does so without any sense of humor or irony. I’m doffing my cap in this case to a group called Marsupilami, a UK-based septet that released two records for the Transatlantic label in the early ‘70s. “I've come here today to rip the veil from your eyes,” proclaims the band. “And pinch your heads, and pull out your bloody minds!” And so it begins, a five-song suite dedicated to gladiators, togas, chariots and minstrels. All of this would be quite funny, of course, if these guys weren’t so serious. Arena, awash in a murky haze of flutes, mellotrons and saxophones, is typical of the era’s art rock projects in its varying time changes, loosely organized song structures and elongated musical passages. “Prelude to the Arena” kicks things off, an introduction full of screams, chants and the occasional guitar solo. The remaining four songs regurgitate the same odd mix of jazz, rock and folk in conceptualizing the group’s exploration of a once brutal Roman culture. In the band’s defense, the musicianship is impressive and the playing tight. Ultimately, though, Arena is simply another lost entry from the decade’s progressive rock archives.

Czar

2008-11-18T10:50:00.003-05:00

Home to one of the decade’s more maniacal album covers (have you ever seen anything so deliciously diabolical?), Czar first appeared in 1970 on UK-based Fontana Records. The record itself, a dark, brooding, largely keyboard-driven affair, is yet another example of the burgeoning progressive rock scene that blossomed in the later stages of the psychedelic ‘60s. There are plenty of heavy riffs, blistering guitar leads and thumping bass lines—see “Tread Softly on My Dreams,” “Cecilia” and “Follow Me,” for example—but it’s the ballads “Today,” “Oh Lord I’m Getting Heavy” and “Good Morning Sunshine” (the last two included as bonus tracks) that best showcase the band’s songwriting abilities. The group’s penchant for two- and three-part harmonies also adds a bit of depth to what is overall a rather appetizing collection of prog-influenced hard rock.

Notes: Czar received a straight reissue a couple of years ago from Italy’s Akarma Records, but this 2007 Sunbeam release includes rare memorabilia and photographs, extensive liner notes and a whopping eight bonus tracks. The package also includes an interview with Bob Hodges, the band’s keyboard player. He had this to say: “I find it hard to comprehend that people are so interested in the album today.” I can hear you asking yourself the same question.

Jubal

2008-11-10T13:07:00.007-05:00

Sometimes bad things happen to good people. Perhaps that’s what Kris Kristofferson was thinking after he signed on to help promote Jubal, a rather toothless collection of early ‘70s country-flavored soft rock. The iconic tunesmith—on the cusp of stardom courtesy of Janis Joplin’s successful interpretation of “Me and Bobby McGee”—used his name to endorse this obscure quintet’s self-titled debut album. First released in 1972 on Elektra Records, Jubal is a mostly maudlin affair, a record peppered with limp-wristed ballads and acoustic-based light rock numbers. “Friendly Goodbye,” “Morning of My Life” and “Castles in the Sand” are typical of the group's overly sentimental sound, the latter even featuring ocean wave sound effects. There is one great moment. “For Becky,” a splendid ballad, features an effective mix of piano and saxophone amidst a series of delicate time changes. A few more songs like this and Kristofferson might have been a bit more accurate in his praise. Jubal’s musical approach is probably best captured on “Really Not a Rocker:” “I’m really not a rocker/never was a rocker,” insists the band. “Always was a country boy.” I'm glad they said it so I didn't have to.

Rare Bird

2008-10-21T13:57:00.003-04:00

For those of you who prefer your rock and roll with plenty of six-string power chords, the species of rare bird featured here is probably best left unexplored. This UK-based quartet’s debut, first released in 1969 on Charisma Records, reveals yet another participant in the rather odd British progressive hard rock movement that eschewed the use of guitars for multiple keyboard experimentation. The end result is an organ-dominated romp through the decade’s brief brush with psychedelic art rock. What separates this outfit from its contemporaries, however, is the existence of an actual—gasp—hit. “Sympathy,” a slow, somber, hymn-like processional, slipped into the British Top 30 in 1970, and at the very least secured the band’s status as one-hit wonders. The album’s most embarrassing moment (you knew there was at least one) comes in the form of the apocalyptic “God of War,” a song whose vocal approach is done largely in whispers. The band’s second and final record for Charisma appeared a year later; the appropriately titled As Your Mind Flies By failed to replicate the success of the debut.

Notes: Singer Steve Gould later appeared in a great pop/rock band called Runner. The group’s lone self-titled debut from 1979 is definitely worth seeking out (it’s currently available on compact disc as a Japanese import from Airmail Records).

Nirvana ● Local Anaesthetic

2008-10-14T10:00:00.004-04:00

This album cover gives me the creeps. Actually, the music itself kind of freaks me out as well. Before I go any further, however, perhaps a brief history is in order: The UK-based Nirvana—not the Kurt Cobain-led grunge outfit of the early ‘90s—was an early ‘70s progressive rock band led by Patrick Campbell-Lyons and Alex Spyropoulos. The group recorded a handful of records, although Local Anaesthetic, first released in 1971, was the only lp to appear on the Vertigo label. There are exactly two songs on this record. If that raises the hair on the back of your neck, well, you’re not alone. Side one was originally devoted to a psychedelic rock suite called “Modus Operandi (Method of Work)” while “Home: Salutation/Construction/Deconstruction/Reconstruction/Fanfare,” a five-part mini-epic, took up the record’s second half. Not surprisingly, Local Anaesthetic is hard to digest. With its long, complex musical arrangements, constantly shifting time changes and obscure lyrical references (“Comb your hair with a harp?” Really?), the album proves a challenging listening experience. These aren’t songs that you are going to sing along with or snap your fingers to, but the record’s accessibility is ultimately irrelevant. The fact that bands once made records like this shines light on a bold and daring period of musical experimentation. Love it or hate it, Local Anaesthetic helped push the boundaries of contemporary rock and roll.

Notes: Use of the Nirvana name ended in a lawsuit. Wikepedia describes it this way: “The original band had filed a lawsuit in California against the Seattle grunge band in 1992. The matter was settled out of court on undisclosed terms that apparently allowed both bands to continue using the Nirvana name and issuing new recordings without any packaging disclaimers or caveats to distinguish one Nirvana from the other.”

Redwing

2008-10-09T11:54:00.003-04:00

One can’t help but to feel sorry for these guys. Redwing, a four-man country-rock band from Sacramento, California, released five records before before turning in its ticket to stardom for a seat at the back of the lonely bus of obscurity. The band evolved from a group called Glad (lame name, I know, but Timothy B. Schmit of Poco and the Eagles was a member) and released its self-titled debut album for Fantasy Records in 1971. The end result is paint-by-the-numbers country-influenced melodic rock. “I'm Your Lover Man,” “Shorty Go Home” and “Hogtied” highlight the outfit’s finer points—strong harmonies, skillful musicianship—and “The Underground Railway” and “Please Doctor Please” help fill the requisite hard rock quotient, but there is nothing on this 12-song lp that distinguishes it from the plethora of like-minded west coast-based projects that sprang to life in the early part of the decade. What ultimately separated Redwing and its many second-tier counterparts from cracking the big time was the lack of a hit single. That elusive radio-friendly track left many ‘70s bands forever relegated to small clubs and big bars. Redwing, despite its lengthy run, was no exception.

Walrus

2008-09-22T10:39:00.003-04:00

Strange but true: The early ‘70s gave rise to not one but two bands named Walrus. The first was a US-based rhythm and blues outfit from Los Angeles, while the second—the one under scrutiny here at “The I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide—was a horn-driven hard rock group from England. Walrus, first released in 1970 on Deram Records, is another one of those hit-or-miss jazz-rock projects. This one is decidedly miss. The driving, highly energized “Who Can I Trust?” proves an effective opener, and “Why” is an interesting foray into folk-rock, but it soon becomes clear that something is amiss. Perhaps it’s the vocalist, whose grating voice and awkward phrasing is ill-suited to front such a brass-heavy conglomeration. Or maybe it’s the lifeless compositions, completely lacking in melody or song structure. Either way, the record is a disappointment. “Turning” includes a spoken word introduction (the less I say about spoken word bits, the better), while “Tomorrow Never Comes” is buried beneath the sounds of a Mexican-flavored dance band. Weird. I don’t know what ever happened to the American Walrus, but let’s hope they fared better than their European counterparts; the UK Walrus was done by the end of the following year.

Crawler

2008-09-15T11:33:00.003-04:00

One can’t help but wonder if the majority of those who bought this record did so more for the striking cover art than for the music itself. I suppose the only ones who know for sure are the five or six people who actually purchased a copy. Crawler evolved from a band called Back Street Crawler, a group formed by former Free guitarist Paul Kossoff. After Kossoff’s death in 1976, the remaining members shortened the name and signed a two-record deal with Epic Records. Crawler, first released in 1977, is a serviceable slice of blues-based hard rock. The excellent “Stone Cold Sober” serves as the album’s centerpiece, a smoldering, mid-tempo number that actually scraped the lower reaches of the Billboard singles chart. The remaining eight tracks typify the band’s brand of sturdy, workman-like rock. “Without You Babe” and “Pastime Dreamer” are no-frills meat-and-potatoes rockers, while “You Are My Savior” and “You and Me” are surprisingly stylish ballads. Crawler is hardly groundbreaking material, but its plethora of riff-heavy guitar licks and effectively placed keyboard fills qualifies it as a decent entry into the annals of late ‘70s hard rock. The band released one final record—1978’s Snake, Rattle and Roll—before slithering off into obscurity.

Aardvark

2008-09-11T09:38:00.003-04:00

Only in 1970 could a band call itself Aardvark and get away with it. Throw in some truly unique cover art and a four-man group without a guitarist and you’ve got yourself an odd slice of early ‘70s British progressive hard rock. Mining much the same territory covered by its prog-rock contemporaries—multiple time changes, complex rhythmic patterns and extended song structures—Aardvark shifts from thunderous hard rock (“Copper Sunset”) to uptempo pseudo-jazz (“Very Nice of You to Call”) to folk-like ballads (“Once Upon a Hill”). The record’s one true mind-numbing moment comes in the form of an almost 10-minute mini-epic called “Put That in Your Pipe and Smoke It,” which is essentially nothing more than an unending keyboard solo. A mixed bag at best, Aardvark is hardly required listening, although hardcore prog-rockers and keyboard enthusiasts may find bits and pieces to their liking.

Notes: Originally released on Deram Records, a subsidiary of Decca, Aardvark was reissued on cd in Japan in 2005 as a limited edition mini-lp replica digi-sleeve. It has since gone out of print. However, a Liechtenstein-based(!) company called Tapestry Records has recently delivered a vinyl version. This, too, is a limited edition.

Satisfaction

2008-08-25T09:17:00.001-04:00

“Progressive jazz rock” is the term most often used to describe Satisfaction, a UK-based septet that dropped its self-titled debut album in 1971 on Decca Records. That scares me. So does the strange choice of band name and even stranger choice of cover art. Ultimately it’s the album’s status as an ultra-rare slice of early ‘70s horn-rock that warrants its inclusion here at The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide. Assembled and directed by trumpet player Mike Cotton, Satisfaction delivers a fairly effective blend of horn-infused jazz and guitar-oriented hard rock. “Cold Summer,” “Call You Liar, Liar” and “Love It Is” (included here as a non-lp single) reflect the group’s rock leanings, for example, while “Just Lay Back and Enjoy It,” “You Upset the Grace of Living When You Lie” and “Go Through Changes” reveal the band’s jazz roots. There are a couple of duds, including the overly long and ponderous “Sharing,” but overall the playing is tight and the songwriting impressive. Not quite, er, satisfied, the group splintered shortly after this release, another one-and-done entry into the decade’s jazz-rock sweepstakes. Final verdict: Not scary.

The Lollipop Shoppe ● Just Colour

2008-08-21T09:14:00.004-04:00

Rock and roll 101: Don’t call your band The Lollipop Shoppe and expect to escape notice of The “I-Own-Every-Record-You’d-Never-Buy” CD Consumer’s Guide. This odd and somewhat confusing moniker, forced upon the group by their then-manager, Lord Tim Hudson, is ill-suited for such an aggressive, guitar-heavy hard rock ensemble. Originally known as The Weeds, The Lollipop Shoppe released Just Colour in 1968 on UNI Records. The album kicks off with the now-classic “You Must Be a Witch,” a blistering slice of psychedelic garage rock (the song also appears on an expanded version of the groundbreaking Nuggets compilation). The snarling, punk-like fireworks continue on songs like “Who’ll Read the Will,” “Don’t Look Back” and “You Don’t Give Me No More,” all of which feature a somewhat frightening combination of raucous vocals, vicious power chords and manic drum beats. The group’s gentler, more melodic approach takes form on “Baby Don’t Go,” “It’s Only a Reflection” and “It Ain’t How Long,” but it’s the band’s frantic aural assault for which they are remembered (or not). Apparently recorded in just one day, Just Colour is extremely raw and unpolished, its musical shortcomings made up for with pure energy. Energy doesn’t sell records, however, and The Lollipop Shoppe closed its doors for good in 1969.

Notes: Here is an audio-only YouTube clip of The Lollipop Shoppe's "You Must Be a Witch:" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4jnHYW8Er2E.

Road

2008-08-12T09:08:00.002-04:00

It doesn’t get much worse than this, my friends. Your prototypical early ‘70s power trio, Road, a B-list supergroup of sorts, featured former and future members of the Jimi Hendrix Experience (bassist Noel Redding), Rare Earth (guitarist Rod Richards) and Stray Dog (drummer Leslie Sampson), and released its lone self-titled debut album in 1972 on Natural Resources Records. The end result is a half-baked, spaced-out platter of self-indulgent stoner rock. Sure, the vocals are awful, the songs go nowhere and the contributing participants are comatose, but at least the lyrical content is good for a laugh or two. Take “I’m Going Down to the Country,” for example, a song that features exactly one verse: “Goin’ down to the country/where the air is so nice/lookin’ in a haystack/I see mice.” I suppose I could provide you with some of the poetic genius that also appears in both “Mushroom Man” and “Man Dressed in Red,” but I’ll let the titles speak for themselves. One final note: the title track features a bass solo. You have been warned.

Detroit

2008-07-29T10:59:00.005-04:00

Another band from the geographic school of rock, Detroit comprised the leftover scraps of a deliciously meaty blue-eyed rhythm and blues outfit known as Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels. The energetic yet short-lived quintet scored big with a handful of hits, including “Jenny Take a Ride” and “Devil with a Blue Dress On/Good Golly Miss Molly.” Detroit, first released in 1971 on the Paramount label, represented a reunion of sorts, Ryder having split to pursue a solo career in the late ‘60s. The album is essentially a continuation of the soul-influenced, blues-based rock first established by the original incarnation of the band upon its formation in 1965. “Let it Rock” and “Box of Old Roses,” two piano-heavy cuts, pay tribute to the early days of rock, the former borrowing liberally from Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode.” The songs become more contemporary sounding with “Long Neck Goose,” a Ryder original, and two well-chosen cover songs: The Velvet Underground’s “Rock 'n' Roll” and “Gimme Shelter” by the Rolling Stones (included here as a bonus track). An effective if not overwhelming debut record, Detroit would mark the beginning of the end for this Midwestern ensemble; Ryder temporarily retired from music due to throat problems, effectively putting this Motor City vehicle in park for good.

Them

2008-07-15T11:07:00.006-04:00

Most rock fans correctly acknowledge Them as the vehicle that launched the career of singer/songwriter Van Morrison. A UK-based rhythm and blues outfit, the band delivered a handful of legendary mid-‘60s garage-rock classics, including “Baby Please Don’t Go,” “Gloria” and “Here Comes the Night.” Less known, perhaps, is the group’s lengthy if not terribly successful post-Morrison career. After two rather non-descript attempts at psychedelia, the band returned to its roots, recording Them in 1970 for the small Happy Tiger label. The end results are impressive. “I Keep Singing,” “You Got Me Good” and “Jo Ann” typify the group’s frantic, fuzzed-out musical assault, while “Take a Little Time” and “Nobody Cares” lean towards country-rock. The record’s second half features a trio of effective covers: Wilson Pickett’s “In the Midnight Hour,” “I Am Waiting” by the Rolling Stones and the Beau Brummel’s “Just a Little” (oh, and I’m not sure you can cover yourself, but “Lonely Weekends” sounds eerily like “Gloria”). Despite a valiant effort, Them failed to catapult the group back into the limelight. The band recorded one final album—1971’s In Reality—before calling it a day for good.

Bo Grumpus ● Before the War

2008-07-07T10:43:00.007-04:00

I regret to inform you that Bo Grumpus isn’t a real person. Hey, I’m as disappointed as you are. The name comes from producer Felix Pappalardi’s wife, Gail Collins, an artist who used the unusual moniker to describe one of her drawings (let’s hope she was a better artist than she was a wife; the former Mrs. Pappalardi shot and killed her husband in 1983). Before the War, first released in 1968 on Atco Records, is a rather tame collection of heavily orchestrated psychedelic pop. “A Knowing Young Touch” and “Travelin’ in the Dark” are both awash in strings, for example, while “If I Came to You” features a small brass section. Elsewhere the band's timid brand of mellow folk-rock meanders along, eventually channeling John Sebastian in a couple of Lovin’ Spoonful-inspired numbers: “Ragtimely Love” and “Brooklyn.” Ultimately the best part of this band is its name. As it turns out, that too became a moot point; Bo Grumpus changed its name to Jolliver Arkansaw in 1969.

Notes: Pappalardi first made a name for himself as a producer—he started working with Cream in 1967—but found his biggest commercial success as a founding member of the band Mountain with guitarist Leslie West. He was shot and killed by his wife, Gail, on April 17, 1983. She was ultimately acquitted of second degree murder and manslaughter, but found guilty of criminally negligent homicide.

The Fort Mudge Memorial Dump

2008-06-23T14:44:00.002-04:00

It’s a record like this that makes me glad I’m alive. Oh, it’s hardly a great album—some might argue that it’s not even very good—but just the fact that I own a copy of something as obscure as The Fort Mudge Memorial Dump gives me goosebumps. The Dump (for brevity’s sake), a Walpole, Massachusetts-based quintet featuring the lead vocals of Caroline Stratton, released its one and only lp in 1969 for Mercury (the album has recently been reissued on cd by Italy’s Akarma Records, proof once again that the Europeans will release just about anything). Despite its east coast origins, the band is firmly rooted in San Francisco acid-soaked psychedelia. The revelation here is Stratton, whose powerhouse vocals are reminiscent of the Jefferson Airplane’s Grace Slick. The bad news? She appears on less than half the songs. The group’s other singer is, as described by the Acid Archives, “the world’s most pretentious and annoying male vocalist.” Ouch. It’s a good thing his name is missing from the credits. Like the singers, the music is hit or miss. “Mr. Man” and “Crystal Forms” showcase the band’s instrumental chops, both of which help offset songs like the lyrically challenged “Tomorrow” (I’m gonna pick a flower/Gonna use an hour/Gonna build a tower/And I’m never gonna cower”). If nothing else, The Fort Mudge Memorial Dump helped serve notice that the psychedelic rock movement of the late ‘60s was not limited to California. New Englanders, it seems, were also apt to wear flowers in their hair.

Notes: For those of you who just can’t get enough—and I know you’re out there—check out the Acid Archives at http://www.lysergia.com/AcidArchives/. It turns out I’m not the only one who owns every record you’d never buy.