It wasn’t strictly necessary to be a musician to be a member of Hawkwind, the proto-punk space-rock commune from Notting Hill; longtime associate Stacia’s contribution consisted of stripping nude, painting herself blue and gyrating energetically to the rhythms. Robert Calvert’s efforts were a little more artistically substantial: he was an established poet and playwright who featured at intervals during the 1970s as the band’s lyricist and singer. His first “solo” album was originally conceived as a stage play, but in the pilled-out experimental spirit of the times, and with the willing assistance of most of Hawkwind’s musicians and some suitably eccentric guest vocalists, it became a studio-produced concept album alternating songs with darkly-comic sketches and Monty-Pythonesque dialogues. Though having nothing thematically in common with the Monkees’ Head album, its structure is not dissimilar and it’s just as absurd and disorienting. Bob Calvert was famously bipolar, always teetering between rationality and madness and passing occasional intervals in institutions; unsurprising, then, that he produced such an off-the-wall opus.

Calvert had nursed a boyhood yearning to become an RAF jet pilot, an ambition thwarted by a perforated eardrum. His simmering regret for this is probably reflected in his choice of theme for Captain Lockheed And The Starfighters: the German Luftwaffe’s F-104G scandal. The story is well known, but briefly the air arm of West Germany was persuaded to purchase the Lockheed Corporation’s F-104 Starfighter, conceived for the USAF as a supersonic daylight interceptor, as an all-weather strike fighter, a role for which it was totally unsuited. The story also allegedly involves ruthless hard-sell tactics by the manufacturer, bribes accepted by high-ranking German officials, a lamentable lack of training for flight and ground crews and various technical shortcomings including ejector seat failures, the end result being 292 lost aircraft and 115 dead pilots and the nicknaming of the plane as “Widowmaker”. Calvert was clearly familiar with all these factors and included them all in his hard-hitting and highly satirical libretto.

The eight songs commonly employ familiar Hawkwind motifs: driving, repetitive riffs, pounding bass and drums and howling lead guitar and sax, with Calvert’s unhinged vocals wailing over the top. “The Right Stuff”, “The Widow Maker” and “Ejection”, all of whose themes are obvious from their titles, follow this template closely. “The Song Of The Gremlin Part One” and its subsequent companion “Part Two” are more intriguing, with freeform arrangements and some fine synthesiser work. The closing “Catch A Falling Starfighter” is a blackly-humorous dirge resting on the obvious tasteless pun. The intervening spoken-word interludes follow the uniquely British late-sixties fashion of absurdist comedy, seemingly largely improvised in the studio by Calvert, Arthur Brown, Vivian Stanshall of the Bonzos and, unexpectedly, Jim Capaldi of Traffic. Stanshall’s stereotyped hysterical voicing of the German officers is desperately non-politically-correct by today’s standards but hilarious to anyone who appreciated John Cleese’s contemporary “Don’t mention the War” routine, and on “Ground Crew (Last-Minute Reassembly Before Take-Off)” Stanshall and Capaldi recall the best moments of Peter Cook’s and Dudley Moore’s witless, peerless partnership.

One reviewer subsequently described the work as “Vaudevillean rock’n’roll theatre from a time when rock was intelligent (and) dangerous”, which seems to me to sum it up admirably. Normally anything this far leftfield would have sunk without trace, but its Hawkwind associations at a time when the band was at its popularity zenith meant it enjoyed considerable appreciation among the Hawk-faithful. Resuscitated for CD in 2009 by Cherry Red, its unique, utterly offbeat nature means that it doesn’t sound at all dated today. For a fuller understanding of Calvert and his oeuvre  read this account.

mp3: The Song of the Gremlin, Pt. 1
mp3: Ground Crew (Last Minute Reassembly Before the Takeoff)

Reissue | 2009 | Cherry Red | buy here ]
Original | 1974 | United Artists | search ebay ]
Spotify link | listen ]

Bob Neuwirth has a reputation as one of rock’s First Division liggers, pluggers and hangers-on, primarily through his notorious relationship with Bob Dylan. His principal talent is for fine art, and it was while studying painting in Boston that he became interested in folk music and mixed with the Cambridge coffeehouse community whence he became Dylan’s longtime sidekick. Neuwirth appears as The Zim’s alter ego in Don’t Look Back, and the partnership would endure into the 70s when he served as tour manager for the Rolling Thunder Revue. Over the years he’s also shared the confidences of such disparate performers as Janis Joplin, Kris Kristofferson, T-Bone Burnett, Patti Smith and John Cale. Although he’s an abstract painter by profession he’s maintained a continuous connection with music and musicians as occasional songwriter and sometime record producer, but he purposely avoided being recorded himself for years and his personal output on wax has been thin: five albums to date, four of these from 1988 on plus this isolated oddball effort from 1974.

The story behind this album is at least as intriguing as the album itself, and can be found in Al Aronowicz’s extensive and highly entertaining account. Briefly, in the wake of triumphantly signing Dylan to Asylum, David Geffen allegedly bet Albert Grossman ten thousand dollars that he’d also get an album out of the elusive Neuwirth. Geffen accordingly flew Neuwirth from NY to LA on full expenses and assured him that there was no budget limit for the recording and that he could involve anyone he liked; it’s clear reading the cast list that Neuwirth took him at his word. The album would turn out, again allegedly, to be the most expensive in real terms that Geffen ever sanctioned, and the invitees included Gene Clark, Rick Danko, Dylan, Rita Coolidge, Cass Elliott, Don Everly, Richie Furay, Chris Hillman, Booker T Jones, Kristofferson and Dusty Springfield (!), and that’s only the best-known ones. A fabulous horn/brass section including jazz greats Plas Johnson, Blue Mitchell and Clifford T Scott was engaged, and Jimmy Haskell arranged comprehensive orchestral strings. Given the location, the times and the contributors, it can be assumed that the proceedings took place in a haze of tequila and coke, and the production certainly has a thick, overproduced party feel, simultaneously sloppy and duck’s-arse tight; these guys clearly had some fun in the studio at Geffen’s (considerable) expense.

What of the music itself? Neuwirth’s original songs are unremarkable but worthy enough, alternating string-swathed Hot-Burrito ballads with horn-and-piano-driven honky-tonkers, both garnished with soaring backing vocals courtesy of the assembled chanteuses. He capably covers Bobby Charles’s “Cowboys And Indians” which bumps along nicely on a swampy Fender Rhodes base, and Donnie Frits’s maudlin “We Had It All”. Neuwirth’s vocal talent is clearly limited – a good half-octave, as Richard Thompson used to say – but the instrumental work is first-rate throughout, particularly Ben Keith’s flyaway pedal steel on “Kiss Money” and Jeff “Skunk” Baxter’s chicken-pickin’ guitar on “Rock & Roll Rider”, and the hornmen produce tremendous riffing on “Rock’N’Roll Time” and fine New Orleans jazz touches on “Honky Red”. The two original side-closers are clearly studio-jam throwaways: a brief cameo of Don Gibson’s “Legend In My Time” on which Neuwirth harmonises with Don Everly, and a whacked-out take on his, Janis’s and Michael McClure’s “Mercedes Benz” on which he thickly intones just the first verse before pronouncing a bleary “thank you and goodnight”.

Of course the album tanked commercially; Geffen himself later said that it sold “six copies, as expected” and the myth pertains that it cost him $200,000 to win his $10,000 bet. Bob Neuwirth picked up a belated CD reissue on Water in 2003 but remains one of rock’s lesser-known and more engaging curiosities.

mp3: Honky Red
mp3: Cowboys and Indians

Original | 1974 | Asylum | search ]
Reissue | 2003 | Water | buy ]
Spotify link | listen ]

When discussing obscure rock and roll bands from the 1960s, you often find yourself mired in the same old backstory; local band starts out in some cat’s garage and tries on Beatles and Stones songs for size until they finally meet Sgt. Pepper, turn on with the rest of the country, chip in for a sitar and some guitar effects, and start getting metaphysical. Fortunately, however, you will occasionally get a group of musicians that has a tale far more interesting and unique – such as Ya Ho Wa 13.

Formed not out of someone’s garage but out of someone’s cult, Ya Ho Wa 13 was the house band for the Source Family commune, a tight-knit group of wayfaring strangers under the tutelage of health food restauranteur and ex-Nature Boy Jim Baker, alias Father Yod. With Yod at the helm, the group spent the late 1960s and early 1970s recording a series of wildly eccentric albums of cosmic improvisation, philosophical earth-child hymns and pounding drums. Though many of these records remain almost overwhelmingly anti-commercial and generally inaccessible to the general listener (wait, who?), their 1974 record Savage Sons of Ya Ho Wa brims with strong songs and righteous grooves, and comes highly recommended to all fans of underground American rock and roll.

It is perhaps telling that musical accessibility first arrives with Father Yod taking a backseat to the proceedings and allowing members of the Source Family to contribute their own material. Though the band itself remains constant here – Djin and Rhythm Aquarian on the guitars, Sunflower Aquarian on bass, and Octavius Aquarian on drums – the lead vocals are handled by whoever contributed the song. This gives each cut an individuality that really keeps things burning, and allows for a consistently exciting listen. The two strongest voices here are Electron Aquarian’s frenzied growl on cuts like“Fire in the Sky” and “Man the Messiah,” and what I believe is Djin Aquarian channeling Topanga-era Neil Young on “Red River Valley,” among several others. The music here is definitely in the old west coast tradition, full of weird, chiming guitars, fiery San Francisco style leads and raw jams. In fact, this is some of the best of this type of music I think I’ve ever heard, with the record’s backwoods production helping to ground the band’s most lysergic explorations. The band is real tight, with a funky back-beat over which Djin’s guitar weaves transcendental – check out his playing on the seven minute odyssey “A Thousand Sighs,” as brother Electron drips cosmic soul across lyrics like “the church, the archive/with rules contrived/the truth you hide”.

Unfortunately, Savage Sons is one of several Ya Ho Wa 13 recordings to remain out-of-print, released in limited number on vinyl, and only being reissued once in 1999 when former Source family member Sky Saxon oversaw the release of the six-disc God and Hair box set. Until someone oversees a proper re-release of this album on its own, you’re going to have to try and track down either that box set or one of those 500-1000 existing original copies. Meanwhile, you can learn more about this unique group and the people behind it by checking out Isis Aquarian’s great book The Source.

“The Edge of A Dream”

Original | 1974 | Higher Key Records | search ebay ]

Definitely not what I was expecting from a 1974 private pressing with a strangely modern sleeve and a pedal steel guitarist. News, who were four or more lads from Yale University, had the late 60s sound nailed down five years too late, but who’s to complain about a throwback to the best era in rock history? Hot Off The Press is a unique and unknown LP featuring super tight performances, lovely four-part harmonies, and songs that won’t take long to get comfortably lodged in your head.

Kicking off with a pysch-flavored spliced radio parody performed by some of the band members, Hot Off The Press gets right into its first sweet spot with “Loser,” showcasing Mark London’s expert and refreshingly twang-free steel. Throughout the record’s nine songs he has no trouble fitting the instrument in with a pop/rock sound, and essentially designs the rare flavor of this record with soaring, jazzy licks. There are a couple pretty tough rockers, and I must agree with Llama where he labels “One Night Stand” a “so-so Creedence ripoff.”  But lighter fare like “Ooo La La” and “Misty Day” (one of the band’s first songs) groove with the sunny sound of Montage. I love the jabber at the end of optimistic bopper “Easy Street:” “…somebody’s way off key…I was doing a 7th,” which adds just the right amount of silliness to this laid-back affair. “Farmer’s Daughter” gets bonus points for the album’s second Beach Boys reference and “New York City” ends the original lineup with an 8-minute jam that finally belies News’ sixties psych disguise. Bonus tracks include the 60-second radio bed that got the band their first shot in the recording studio (1970) and an early demo recording of “Misty Day.”

The CD package is a mini-repro as faithful to a vinyl sleeve as I’ve ever seen, the extensive details of the News story told by principal songwriter Bob Pretcher in the liners. But if you’re willing to shell out some bucks, I’d say go for one of the limited 1974 sealed pressings available direct from Yoga Records. Don’t miss this excellent reissue.

“Ooo La La”

CD Reissue | 2010 | Riverman/Yoga Records | buy from yoga ]
Original Vinyl | 1974 | private | ]

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1.  Hank Williams – Lonesome Whistle (1951) from Revealed: The Unreleased Recordings

2.  Lee Hazlewood – Dark In My Heart (1967) from Lee Hazlewoodism, Its Cause and Cure

3.  Addie Pray (Bill Lincoln from Euphoria) – Wings In The Wind (1970-1971) from Late For The Dance

4.  Elyse (with Neil Young) – Houses (1969) from Elyse

5.  The Youngbloods – Foolin’ Around (The Waltz) from The Youngbloods (1967)

6. J.J. Light – Gallup, New Mexico (1969) from Heya!

7.  Roscoe Holcomb – Coal Creek (date unknown) from An Untamed Sense of Control

8.  Buffy Sainte-Marie – Poppies (1969) from Illuminations

9.  Bert Jansch – Cluck Old Hen (1974) from LA Turnaround

10.  Graham Nash & David Crosby – Frozen Smiles (1972) from self-titled LP

11.  Ry Cooder – France Chance (1970) from Ry Cooder

12.  John Simon – Did You See? (1970) John Simon’s Album

13.  The Beau Brummels – One Too Many Mornings (1966) from Magic Hollow Box Set

14.  Space Opera – Blue Ridge Mountains (1972) from Space Opera

15.  Pearls Before Swine – Ballad to an Amber Lady (1967) from One Nation Underground

16.  Muleskinner – Muleskinner Blues (1972) from Muleskinner

17.  Tim Buckley - Song to the Siren – Morning Glory – The Tim Buckley Story

18.  The Band – The Rumor (1970) from Stage Fright

The elder statesman of rock historians, Fred Dellar, wrote of the hugely-underrated Starry
Eyed And Laughing that “they were either 15 years ahead of their time or 10 years too
late”, by which he meant that with better timing they could have been as big as the Byrds or
REM. Certainly, SEAL arrived somewhat late for the first and most popular phase of their
chosen genre, country-rock. The two involuntary albatrosses they carried round their necks
didn’t help much, either: being cast by the UK rock media as an ersatz Byrds by dint of their
prominent Rickenbacker twelve-string jangle and close harmony vocals, and being saddled
with the uncultured, back-to-basics Pub Rock image by virtue of working the same London
venues as the R’n’B and Chuck Berry-fuelled likes of Dr Feelgood and Ducks Deluxe.
Neither association was deserved.

SEAL was initally old school friends Ross McGeeney and Tony Poole from Bedford, who
worked the capital’s folk clubs, pubs and subway stations as a guitar/vocal duo in the
early 70s, taking their name from a line in Dylan’s “Chimes of Freedom” and covering the
Zim himself, Jackson Browne, Michael Nesmith and other quality singer-songwriters. Late
in ’73 they aspired to a stable four-piece line-up with Brighton bassist Iain Whitmore and
appropriately-named drummer Mike Wackford, and began working up a set of country-rock
originals based around the songwriting of the three frontmen, Poole’s chiming Rickenbacker
330-12, McGeeney’s bend-laden Telecaster and fluid vocal harmonies. These graced
the eponymous debut album which appeared on CBS in October ’74 to considerable
critical approval. While the Byrds influence could be detected, so could those of various
other heroes of the genre – CSN&Y, Poco, even Moby Grape – and there were yet plenty
of original touches. The songwriting may not have been as smoothly adroit as the more
sublime compositions of McGuinn or Browne, but still showed an adventurous respect for
their West Coast antecedents. Poole’s dexterity on the Rick Twelve was (whisper it low . . .)
way ahead of Roger McGuinn’s, and his duels with McGeeney’s fiery Fender made the
uptempo cuts sizzle.

The debut’s twelve tracks comprised a classy, energetic, varied set. “Lady Came From
The South” recalls Notorious-era Byrds with flanged 12-string, powerhouse percussion
and psychedelic overtones, while the joyous boogie “Oh What?” rocks along on guitar
and piano in best Southern Rawk style. All four musicians generate an absolute tour-de-
force on “Going Down”, on which Poole’s licks in particular are incandescent. But despite
support from heavy UK touring the album failed to sell in large numbers at home, and didn’t
get a release in America at all. CBS nonetheless optioned a follow-up which appeared
eleven months later as Thought Talk and which, following the prevailing trend, offered more
keyboards, less twelve-string twang and more mature, complex compositions; different, but
certainly as accomplished and rewarding as the debut. SEAL then embarked on a brief but
well-received US tour, during which McGeeney visited Gene Parsons to have his Tele fitted
with a String Bender.

The history becomes sketchy thereafter; at a tour post-mortem meeting McGeeney was
summarily fired or resigned (depending on whose account you read) for reasons never made
public, and the depleted band fell apart shortly afterwards when their management went
bust. Unlike many of their contemporaries, there has been no reformation, though Poole
remains active in the genre as producer and record label owner and struts his Rickenbacker
along with Whitmore in the rather excellent Falcons. The best way to experience SEAL’s
oeuvre thirty-five years on is via the fine 2CD package That Was Now And This Is Then,
containing all of both albums, interesting bonus cuts (including their version of “Chimes Of
Freedom”) and snatches of concerts and radio broadcasts, available only from their official
website.

“Lady Came from the South”

2CD Reissue | 2003 | Aurora | buy direct from starryeyed ]
Orig Vinyl | 1974 | CBS | search ebay ]

For some reason I came late to the Grateful Dead. A perceptive workmate introduced me to Workingman’s Dead and American Beauty in the mid-70’s, and then loaned me this, their latest release, which subsequently became a lifelong favourite.

Now nobody’s ever going to claim this period as the Dead’s golden age. Their collective creativity was heavily diluted by the loss of two original members and a slew of solo and side projects; their organisation was financially mired by its 300-plus employee wagebill, massive organised bootlegging of their first independent release Wake Of The Flood and the spiralling cost of their cocaine habit; and their new fifty-ton PA system, the notorious “Wall Of Sound”, demanded yet further intensification of their already exhausting touring schedule to recoup its outlay. Somehow out of all this they managed to produce in 1974 an immaculate studio album, which despite its quality still remains largely under the critical radar.

The eight songs here all feature taut songwriting and, in contrast with the legendary loose nature of the band’s live shows, gratifyingly tight performances. All would lend themselves to funky stretchout treatment on stage, yet benefitted from the distillation necessary to fit them into a studio collection. Jerry Garcia still finds space to weave his magical, sparkling lines among the verses, and the tight three-man rhythm section (only Bill Kreutzmann on drums here) effortlessly surmounts the exotic, often shifting rhythms. Keith Godchaux provides a new versatility on keys – acoustic piano, synth and harpsichord as well as trademark organ – and his wife Donna gives a new Grace Slick-like edge to the harmonies so saccharine-sweet on American Beauty.

From the opening jaunty shuffle “U.S. Blues”, which captured good-humouredly the cynical yet defensive national attitude following Watergate, to the brooding, diminished-chord-laden Dylanesque closer “Ship Of Fools”, there really are no weak tracks here. For me the standouts include Garcia and Hunter’s oh-so-funky “Loose Lucy” which gallops along on one of Captain Trips’s most irresistable riffs, and Bob Weir’s highly enjoyable reinvention of the old Motown standard “Money” as “Money Money”, in which the avarice is transferred to his unidentified lady friend and the original riff neatly subsumed into a new chord structure and irregular time signature. Phil Lesh finally attains composer recognition with the hazy, shimmering “Unbroken Chain” and the lilting “Pride Of Cucamonga” on which guest pedal steelist, Cactus’s John McFee, provides tremendous accompaniment to Lesh’s earnest tenor. The most gifted singer in the band is of course Garcia, and my personal favourite is his rollicking “Scarlet Begonias” which forefronts the Captain’s delightful plaintive whelp either side of a brief, exemplary Garcia/Godchaux instrumental dialogue, plus some exhilarating Lesh bass on the jazzy coda: definitive 70’s Dead stuff. Oh, yes, and the album title refers to the nickname of an itinerants’ hostel around the corner from the studio.

This album could be the Dead’s best kept secret. Go discover.

“Pride of Cucamonga”

CD Reissue | 2006 | Rhino | at amzn ]
Vinyl | 1974 | Grateful Dead | at ebay ]
Spotify link | listen ]

Barely understood when it was released in 1974, No Other is Gene Clark’s most polarizing record but generally considered essential today.

Almost every song an epic, Clark’s songwriting was never up for debate, nor his genuinely poetic verses, but it’s Thomas Jefferson Kaye’s production that would weed out hordes of would-be fans. I contend the producer made only one mistake: the use of “power gospel” backing vocals on every track is probably what turns most people off to No Other. Strike the voices and this record would be hailed as a mid-70s masterpiece for Clark’s efforts as much as its lush, candied orchestration.

The record starts off without skipping a beat from the Clark oeuvre; “Life’s Greatest Fool” sounds like a natural step forward from his earlier country rock. The supporting musicians are perfectly in tune with the vision; I want to dig in deeper with the sound every listen, so I hardly consider it overcooked. One tune does embody Gene’s new super-glam image in sound, where you can “hear the cocaine” churning the record: the sinister title track, “No Other,” is slathered with sleazy synth lines and electric guitars. Whether for camp or pure songcraft it’s an irresistable jam and centerpiece of the record.

All of the numbers possess the signature Gene Clark sound. Say when he waits for “Strength Of Strings” to reach full crescendo before sinking into his minor-tinged verse with that untouchable heartworn vocal. Clark is one of the world’s greatest songwriters, his skill in transforming traditional progressions to his unique brand of song unmatched.

Give this record the right chance and you’ll reach the point where you appreciate every overdone detail, down to the gorgeous sleeve and awesomely hideous poster of Gene decked in flowing garments, beads, and makeup in front of an airbrushed Gene Clark monument. I only have the record, but the CD resissue is reportedly worth it for the alternative versions and “Train Leaves Here This Morning,” a retake from the Expedition.

“No Other”

CD Reissue | 2003 | WEA/Rhino | amazon ]
Orig Vinyl | 1974 | Asylum | search ebay ]
Spotify link | listen ]

Death’s 1974 demo album, released for the first time last month on Drag City, is rupturing the walls of the reissue scene, partly due to the recent NY Times article and its aftermath, but mostly for their obvious claim to one of the first slots in the history of punk.

Death was brothers Dannis, Bobby, and David Hackney, who started off playing RnB but switched to aggressive power-pop after witnessing an Alice Cooper show. Their after-school garage practice sessions soon yielded a trio that was tight, ferocious, and way ahead of its time.

The brothers managed to get signed by Groovesville and even got as far as Clive Davis’s interest but refused to change their name from Death for more commercial opportunity. In 1976, after a dissolution with their record company the Hackney brothers pressed 500 copies of their single: “Politicians In My Eyes” b/w “Keep On Knocking,”  reportedly trading  for $800.  Sadly, brother David, the group’s spark and fervent leader passed away in 2000, too soon to get the recognition he knew would one day come.

Bobby Hackney’s sons, members of Rough Francis, are responsible for digging up the old demo tapes that would become For The Whole World To See, and promoting Death’s music in their live performances. This is the kind of recording that’s usually only rumored about, a thing of legends. Listening to unearthed recordings is always magical, but when it’s something as blisteringly hot and grossly unheralded as Death, the experience is flat-out jaw dropping. 

Thanks to all who sent this in. Death’s record is a mind blower on first listen and a clear early contender for reissue of the year.

“Politicians In My Eyes”

CD Reissue | 2009 | Drag City | buy from drag city | amazon ]

After creating his two most commercially successful albums, FZ released a couple of beasts that many progressive fans call his apex and would become the Elements of Style for nearly every jam band in the 90s. I’m more of an early Mothers fan but there’s no denying this is some of his best.

Roxy & Elsewhere (1974)
In the midst of an old Zappa-crazed summer, this one really blew me away. I had never imagined a live band could perform like this, and I still don’t think I’ve ever heard a performance like Roxy ever since. The band was tighter than ever while playing the most complex passages Zappa had yet penned. Pygmy Twylyte and Echidna’s Arf are intricately orchestrated pieces that must have been exhilarating in a live setting. Napoleon Murphy Brock’s vocals balanced the show with a relaxed quality on Village Of The Sun and Son Of Orange County, a mellowed out retake for Frank to stretch his guitar over. The 15+ minute Be-Bop Tango gives a taste of the fun to be had at a Zappa show and a welcome Freak Out! number, Trouble Every Day, offers what may be the heaviest drum fill I’ve ever heard.

“Echidna’s Arf (Of You)”

One Size Fits All (1975)
Same band as on Roxy & Elsewhere hits the studio.  The prog-rock numbers benefit from some studio attention and Ruth Underwood’s tuned percussion feats continue to amaze, but there are some new Zappa classics to fall back on, namely Po-Jama People, San Ber’dino, and Sofa (a recurring FZ theme introduced here in song and illustration). At once, the album will satisfy pop and prog fans alike as things never veer too far in one direction. One Size Fits All is a jewel from Zappa’s prime and never could enough be said of his guitar work on Inca Roads.

“Inca Roads”