Archive for the ‘ Psych ’ Category

The Monkees “Head”

| Pop,Psych

Head

Head isn’t the best Monkees album; in fact it contains just six pieces of music, only one of which is a copper-bottomed classic. But it does best symbolise the wonderful set of contradictions that made up the Monkees and their brief top-flight career.

The Monkees were first really brought to my attention in 1967 when my kid sister pinned a tearout picture from Fab 208 teeny fanzine on her bedroom wall. It showed the band members goofing around in Victorian style striped swimsuits. Her comment was Haven’t they got nice legs?. You can imagine the response she received from this then ultra-serious psychedelia and Memphis soul admirer. Actually I had appreciated the excellent first single, Last Train To Clarksville, but had not been impressed by the follow-ups, including the turgid I Wanna Be Free and the simplistic I’m Not Your Steppin’ Stone. Nothing to lay alongside Pepper, Hendrix and Wilson Pickett there, then. The TV series just irritated me: A Hard Day’s Night reduced to twenty-five-minute knockabouts. And if I did manage to catch the Head movie “ I can’t remember if I did or not “ its plotless, formless, apparently pointless structure would have had the same effect.

Fast forward to the new millenium, and after decades of derision the Monkees suddenly became hip again in the wake of Britpop, New Psychedelia and other sixties revival movements. I discovered to my surprise that Mickey Dolenz was a peerless pop vocalist, and Mike Nesmith a confident, strident songwriter; that the best songs had been penned by the aristocracy of Goffin and King, Boyce and Hart, Neil Diamond, John Stewart and the Harries Chapin and Nilsson; that with musical backing by Glen Campbell, James Burton, Clarence White, Ry Cooder, Tommy Tedesco, Neil Young (yes, that one) and other A-team sessioneers from both coasts, those tracks were, in retrospect, sublime nuggets of pop; and that Head the movie was a definitive sixties cinematic experience. I came to sympathise with the group’s struggle to escape from the straitjacket of the exploitative entertainment industry, so splendidly satirised in Head in Ditty Diego – War Chant. From witless boy-band to The Next Beatles via psychedelia and country-rock, I saw the Monkees for what they really had been: a genuinely ambitious and progressive outfit with real musical integrity, their career cut short by their inability to shed the ludicrous image they’d been saddled with at the start. (OK, maybe scratch Davy Jones, who had zip musical or vocal talent, but provided eye-candy in the same way as Paul McCartney did for the Fabs and Brian Jones did for the Stones, and also shared Macca’s unfortunate penchant for Vaudeville. Nobody’s perfect.)

Head the movie and Head the album represent the Monkees’ final, ill-fated, attempt to break through the cultural barriers. Read about the movie on Wikipedia, if you will; the entry is very good. The album comprises the aforesaid six songs plus a bewildering collage of dialogue and found sounds from the film, deliberately reassembled, reverbed, varispeeded and otherwise twisted to produce a supremely trippy experience not unlike Frank Zappa’s experiments on Uncle Meat. (In fact Zappa also has a cameo in the film.) Of the songs, Porpoise Song (Goffin & King) is possibly the best psychedelic single ever released. The live version of Nesmith’s Circle Sky, unaccountably passed over on the original album for the inferior studio version, is good enough to have been included on Nuggets. And the reissue CD also includes the original mix of Peter Tork’s Can You Dig It, his homespun vocal fitting this deeply psych song better than Micky’s smooth, poppy delivery as used on the final version.

Both movie and album bombed, of course. But the Monkees’ true legacy can be found in the excellent psych artifact which is the reissue CD of Head, and on the absolutely stunning 2008 Rhino 4-CD compilation The Monkees Music Box. Also indispensible is Andrew Sandoval’s definitive book The Monkees: The Day By Day Story. Go explore, and happy hunting.

“Porpoise Song”

:D CD Reissue | 1994 | Rhino | at amazon ]
:) Vinyl | 1968 | Colgems | at ebay ]
8-) Spotify link | listen ]

The Jelly Bean Bandits (self-titled)

| Garage,Psych

Jelly Bean Bandits

The Jelly Bean Bandits were the premier teen freaks of New York’s Hudson Valley; just look at them on the LP’s great front cover!  Most of the group members hailed from the Cornwall/Newburgh/New Windsor area, packing local night clubs regularly: New Windsor’s Trade Winds, Poughkeepsie’s Buccaneer Nightclub, and Burlington, Vermont’s Red Dog.  Bob Shad’s Mainstream label released their only album in 1967.

Some collectors refer to the album as a psych punk cult classic and I’d have to agree with them.  Originally known as the Mirror, the Bandits signed a three album deal with Mainstream on the strength of a three song demo.  They had one week to write the album’s songs, which would eventually be recorded in a 12 hour stretch at Columbia’s Studio “A”.   There’s lots of greasy rock n roll to be found on the Jelly Bean Bandits’ sole offering.  Tracks like “Tapestries”, “Say Man” and ‘Plastic Soldiers” are full of trippy organ work and the occasional sound effect but for the most part this LP is more garage than psych.  “Generation” is probably the album’s classic cut and has been featured on the popular garage compilation, Pebbles.  This menacing garage rocker has searing feedback and distortion, snotty vocals and thunderous drums.  I can live without the one jugband tune but overall everything else is pretty good.  For my money the best tracks are “Happiness Girl”, “Neon River” and “Poor Precious Dreams”, three terrific garage punkers with plenty of attitude and fiery guitar/organ interplay.  So overall, The Jelly Bean Bandits is one of those garage platters that’s definitely worth owning.

“Salesmen” and “Superhog”, two late 60’s outtakes that are in more of a psychedelic vein have been comp’d on Psychedelic Crown Jewels Volume 2 and Psychedelic States: New York Volume 1 respectively. The Mainstream album has been reissued on both vinyl and cd as well.

“Happiness Girl”

:) Vinyl | 1967 | Mainstream | search ebay ]
;) MP3 Album | download at amazon ]
8-) Spotify link | listen ]

The Enfields/Friends of the Family

, , , | Garage,Psych

The Enfields and early Friends of the Family

The Enfields were one of the countless garage bands competing for airplay in the 1960s. They released a series of quality local 45s before morphing into the more progressive Friends of the Family, of which by that time, principal songwriter Ted Munda was the only surviving member. The Enfields hailed from Wilmington, Delaware, where they were unquestionably the area’s top group.

“In The Eyes Of The World” was their first Richie 45 released in late 65/early 66. This track is really a teenbeat gem with the great reverbed hollow-body guitar work of John Bernard and plenty of ghostly harmonies via Ted Munda and Charlie Berl. “In The Eyes Of The World” did not have a B-side but sold well locally, making Wilmington’s top 40 and established the group as a force to be reckoned with. The Enfields’ next number, “She Already Has Somebody/I’m For Things You Do” was a #4 local smash and perhaps their finest moment on vinyl. Very similar to the Dovers’ material from around the same time, “She Already Has Somebody” is a minor key folk-rocker with solid hooks, lots of nervous energy and fine guitar work. By the release of their third single the Enfields began branching out into harder, more aggressive sounds. “Face to Face,” another near classic from 1966, opens with a toggle switch guitar sound (probably influenced by the Who), features tough Taxman-like riffs and a brief psychedelic guitar solo. The single’s A-side, “You Don’t Have Very Far” is musically very strong but represents somewhat of a throwback to the 1965 folk-rock sound. This is definitely a “must own”45 from 1966!

After the Enfields broke up in 1967, Ted Munda formed Friends of the Family. He recruited Wayne Watson and Jimmy Crawford from local group the Turfs. They released one disappointing 45 in 1968 but thankfullly made it into the studio for two recording sessions. Munda and his new group recorded throughout 1967 and 1968, amassing about an album’s worth of material (11 songs). While these recordings barely reached the demo stage, the music is accomplished and worth your time. Tracks like the excellent “Last Beach Crusade,” “Together” and the 6 minute “Hot Apple Betty” are progressive and sound like a jazz influenced Left Banke. These three tracks were recorded in 1968 and show the Friends experimenting with lots of keyboards, challenging guitar solos, Zombies/Beatles’ influenced vocals and complex song arrangements. “Funny Flowers,” one of the earlier songs recorded in 1967, is just as appealing but more song-based (jangly folk-rock). “You See I’ve Got This Cold,” another highlight from the 1968 sessions, is a personal favorite that reminds me of Frank Zappa’s Mothers of Invention. It’s full of psychedelic weirdness; check out the bizarre lyrics, tinkling piano, and trippy wah-wah. The band forged on into late 68 opening for The Who and Pink Floyd at the Philadelphia Music Festival. Eventually, Friends of the Family broke up and some years later Ted Munda formed Hotspur, who released an album on Columbia in 1974.

The best way to hear the Enfields/Friends of the Family saga is through Get Hip’s superb 1993 cd reissue, Classic Sounds of the 60s. Normally a patchwork reissue like this doesn’t work but Ted Munda rarely recorded anything bad, making The Enfields/and early Friends of the Family a very impressive release.

Update: Ted Munda is currently seeking financing to record a new album of original material. Get in touch with Ted here.

“In The Eyes Of The World”

:D CD Reissue | 1993 | Get Hip | at Get Hip | at amazon ]
:) Original Vinyl | search ebay ]

The Moody Blues “In Search Of The Lost Chord”

| Classic Rock,Pop,Prog,Psych

In Search of the Lost Chord

It took a while for the Moody Blues to catch on in the US, though their retrospective catalogue scored quite well there after 1971. At home in the UK, however, the Moodies were huge during what I think was their best period, 1968-1970, when their highly individual and sophisticated mix of psych and prog was always spinning on the platters of more cerebral music lovers.
After the band’s 1967 reshuffle their yearning to combine pop and classical musics surfaced strongly. The first effort, Days Of Future Passed, interleaved some good early Moodies songs with second-rate orchestral interludes resembling B-movie soundtracks, and was therefore a patchy affair. Then Mike Pinder discovered the Mellotron, and everything clicked into place.
Pinder is probably the most accomplished Mellotron practitioner of the era, and during the period 1968-70, when miking of acoustic pianos was still hit-and-miss, it was the only onstage keyboard he employed. Its sound in his hands is absolutely fundamental to the Moodies’ output of the times. This is not to downplay the musicianship of the other members; especially notable are John Lodge’s bass playing, his picked Fender Jazz lines and arpeggios functioning as a further lead instrument, and Ray Thomas’s flute solos and obligatos, this instrument being rare in rock at the time.
The songs on In Search Of The Lost Chord feature lyrics of the sort that would ultimately make the Moodies a bit of a laughing stock for a while: plenty of hippie mysticism and Oriental metaphysical musing typical of the era. But they are delivered by four fine solo voices, often combining to produce immaculate harmonies. The melodies and accompaniments are top quality and there’s plenty of variation in keys and time signatures. Above all this there’s a spirit of experimentation typical of the times, with band members tackling unfamiliar instruments “ Pinder on harpsichord, Justin Hayward on sitar, Lodge on cello, Thomas on oboe, Grahame Edge on a kit of cardboard boxes – and a production which belies the limitations of the recording equipment then available to the band, with segues, fade-ins and fade-outs galore.
Legend Of A Mind is part of a short suite, bookended by House Of Four Doors Parts One and Two, but stands alone quite capably. Like many other tracks on the album, this tongue-in-cheek paean to LSD guru Timothy Leary and its bracketing tracks feature some breathless sound effects. These achieve their zenith in The Best Way To Travel, whose stereo effects were quite startling to a generation unused to the new mode of sound reproduction. Of the other tracks, Ride My See Saw is a galloping rocker often reserved for a show closer on stage, while Om incorporates an Oriental chant with huge drum sounds and vocals that sound like a revved-up football crowd.
Very much of its time, and subject to ridicule a decade later, today In Search Of The Lost Chord represents what was best in the days when psychedelia was mutating into progressive music. The follow-up, On The Threshold Of A Dream, offered the same high quality and experimental edge, with subsequent works becoming rather safer and more predictable, if even more grandiose.
PS: this is one that doesn’t work in mono!

It took a while for the Moody Blues to catch on in the US, though their retrospective catalogue scored quite well there after 1971. At home in the UK, however, the Moodies were huge during what I think was their best period, 1968-1970, when their highly individual and sophisticated mix of psych and prog was always spinning on the platters of more cerebral music lovers.

After the band’s 1967 reshuffle, their yearning to combine pop and classical musics surfaced strongly. The first effort, Days Of Future Passed, interleaved some good early Moodies songs with second-rate orchestral interludes resembling B-movie soundtracks, and was therefore a patchy affair. Then Mike Pinder discovered the Mellotron, and everything clicked into place.

Pinder is probably the most accomplished Mellotron practitioner of the era, and during the period 1968-70, when miking of acoustic pianos was still hit-and-miss, it was the only onstage keyboard he employed. Its sound in his hands is absolutely fundamental to the Moodies’ output of the times. This is not to downplay the musicianship of the other members; especially notable are John Lodge’s bass playing, his picked Fender Jazz lines and arpeggios functioning as a further lead instrument, and Ray Thomas’s flute solos and obligatos, this instrument being rare in rock at the time.

The songs on In Search Of The Lost Chord feature lyrics of the sort that would ultimately make the Moodies a bit of a laughing stock for a while: plenty of hippie mysticism and Oriental metaphysical musing typical of the era. But they are delivered by four fine solo voices, often combining to produce immaculate harmonies. The melodies and accompaniments are top quality and there’s plenty of variation in keys and time signatures. Above all this there’s a spirit of experimentation typical of the times, with band members tackling unfamiliar instruments “ Pinder on harpsichord, Justin Hayward on sitar, Lodge on cello, Thomas on oboe, Grahame Edge on a kit of cardboard boxes – and a production which belies the limitations of the recording equipment then available to the band, with segues, fade-ins and fade-outs galore.

Legend Of A Mind is part of a short suite, bookended by House Of Four Doors” Parts One and Two, but stands alone quite capably. Like many other tracks on the album, this tongue-in-cheek paean to LSD guru Timothy Leary and its bracketing tracks feature some breathless sound effects. These achieve their zenith in The Best Way To Travel, whose stereo effects were quite startling to a generation unused to the new mode of sound reproduction. Of the other tracks, Ride My See Saw is a galloping rocker often reserved for a show closer on stage, while Om incorporates an Oriental chant with huge drum sounds and vocals that sound like a revved-up football crowd.

Very much of its time, and subject to ridicule a decade later, today In Search Of The Lost Chord represents what was best in the days when psychedelia was mutating into progressive music. The follow-up, On The Threshold Of A Dream, offered the same high quality and experimental edge, with subsequent works becoming rather safer and more predictable, if even more grandiose.

PS: this is one that doesn’t work in mono!

“The Best Way to Travel”

:D CD Reissue | 2008 | Polydor | at amazon ]
:) Original Vinyl | 1968 | Deram | at ebay ]
8-) Spotify link | listen ]

uReview: The White Album

| Pop,Psych,RnB,uReview

White Album

[ratings]

Okay, The Beatles are everywhere again and we haven’t got a single post about them anywhere. Here’s why. When I list my top five bands, I usually just ignore these guys. Like an automatic number 1. “Besides the Beatles.” Of course, no contest.

That said. I’ve never had a strong opinion on the White Album. Very curious to hear your thoughts. What’s your take? As Len wondered:

Flawed but indispensible masterpiece, or overlong self-indugent monument to a crumbling institution?

:D CD Reissue | 2009 | EMI | at amazon ]

Swamp Dogg “Total Destruction To Your Mind”

| Pop,Psych,RnB,Soul

Total Destruction to your Mind

One of the best underground/unsung soul albums I know of.  Prior to Total Destruction To Your Mind, Swamp Dogg had been recording music and releasing 45s since the 50s, under the name Jerry Williams (or Little Jerry Williams).  Frustrated by the lack of commercial success, Williams changed his name and persona and in 1970, unleashed Total Destruction To Your Mind on an unsuspecting world.  While those early Calico 45s are a fine musical legacy, the above album saw Swamp Dogg hit on something totally new: a very original brew of R&B, funk and rock n roll that still sounds fresh today. Without doubt he delivered a true soul classic.

Total Destruction To Your Mind was originally released by Canyon.  Swamp Dogg’s eccentric nature, blunt lyrics, and gruff vocals make it stand out from the commercial soul of the day.  His style is really individual and authentic, which makes drawing comparisons so difficult.  Think of a more eccentric Curtis Mayfield or a less lysergic Sly Stone with the occasional Stax horn arrangement – but even this description does the man no favors.  The title cut is a classic, probably one of Dogg’s best known numbers.  This track opens the LP and is best described as psychedelic soul rock, featuring wah wah, loud horns, funky guitar riffs, piano, and cryptic lyrics.  Also of note are the fine contributions from guitarist Jesse Carr and drummer Johnny Sandlin; they provide structure and sanity on this great chuggin’ funk rock gem. “Redneck” (written by Joe South) and the excellent “Sal-A-Faster” are similar funk numbers that feature great beats, classic horn arrangements, and controversial lyrics.  Other goodies are the Bob Dylan influenced “Synthetic World,” notable for its cerebral organ and the soulful, psychedelic worldplay of “Dust Your Head Color Red.”  The album closes most unusually with “Mama’s Baby, Daddy’s Maybe,” a great blues number that took me by surprise.  Swamp Dogg wrote 9 of the 12 songs featured on this LP.  Regarding the 3 covers; there are two great Joe South numbers which Swamp Dogg interprets brilliantly and then there’s “The World Beyond,” a killer soul ballad with nostalgic lyrics (written by Bobby Goldsboro).

Again, Total Destruction to Your Mind never gained any commmercial notoriety or widespread acceptance but this should in no way discourage you from buying the 1996 cd reissue (which also adds the excellent Rat On LP from 1971) by Swamp Dogg’s very own S.D.E.G. Records.  Swamp Dogg always did things his own way and thats what makes Total Destruction to Your Mind such a special release.

“Sal-A-Faster”

:D CD Reissue | 2fer | 1996 | SDEG | amazon ]
;) MP3 Album | 2fer | download ]
:) Original Vinyl |  1970 | Canyon | ebay ]

uReview: Captain Beefheart “Trout Mask Replica”

| Art,Psych,RnB

Trout Mask Replica

[ratings]

“Veteran’s Day Poppy”

:D CD Reissue | 1990 | Reprise | at amazon ]
:) Original Vinyl | 1969 | Straight | at ebay ]
:) Vinyl Reissue | 2009 | Warner | at ebay ]

Pink Floyd “Soundtrack from the film More”

| Psych

More

Pink Floyd’s milestone albums are today so embedded in the public consciousness that it’s become more necessary than ever to explore their lesser-known offerings. This can often lead to discovering some unexpected treats. Their soundtrack to the otherwise forgettable 1969 French film More is one such work. Perhaps Floyd’s last album to be imbued with the spirit of Syd Barrett, it comprises a collection of short songs and instrumental pieces, the acid-pop overtones, gentle chillout textures and generally taut construction of which offer a considerable contrast to the lengthy, plodding, half-improvised instrumentals which had become their standard fare, following the loss of Barrett’s lysergically-fuelled, wonderfully erratic songwriting. Roger Waters is the main composer and lyricist here, thankfully before his gloomy, introspective leanings really took over.

Although the album was commissioned as a film soundtrack and the pieces were written to order to fit scenes in the movie, the whole work can be enjoyed as an album of music with no reference at all to its raison d’être (I’ve never seen the film, and frankly have no wish to, given the nature of its plot). Six of the thirteen tracks are proper, complete songs rather than just instrumentals. The range of musical styles is truly eclectic, and no track ever outstays its welcome. Spacey reverbed Farfisa licks, folksy acoustic guitars, found sounds, latin percussion, musique concrête, piano jazz, flamenco, proto-heavy metal and even a touch of uncharacteristic country-pop make successive appearances. Quicksilver, the only lengthy track at just over seven minutes, shows the influence of Georgy Ligeti’s atonal orchestrations as used in 2001: A Space Odyssey. The jazzy, freeform piano-and-percussion Up The Khyber loops wildly around the stereo plane. The Nile Song is grunge twenty years before Nirvana and Mudhoney, though its bewildering series of key changes would certainly bemuse such later acts. Cirrus Minor is delightful space-rock with an incongruous accompaniment of birdsong. The gentle Crying Song features vibes and a gorgeous, nagging bass riff hook.

Perhaps the most surprising thing about More is that it was completely written and recorded in just two weeks: a contrast to the increasingly lengthy compositional and recording periods that Floyd were employing for their mainstream albums. Truly, sometimes less can be More.

“The Nile Song”

:D CD Reissue | 2004 | EMI | at amazon ]
:) Original Vinyl | 1969 | Harvest | at ebay ]

King Crimson “In The Court Of The Crimson King”

| Prog,Psych
I bought In The Court Of The Crimson King straight after seeing Crimson support the Rolling Stones at the Hyde Park free concert in 1969. The then almost unknown Crimson delivered by far the strongest set of the day. I’ve listened to it periodically over the ensuing forty years, first on vinyl and latterly remixed on CD, and it still impresses me.
There are some fine musicians here. Bandleader and composer Robert Fripp can rock out on guitar with the best of the rest, but is happiest on avant-garde improvisations with a cool mellow tone. Drummer Mike Giles has all the jazzy chops. Bassist Greg Lake is also a clear-voiced, expressive singer. Probably the most talented member is Ian McDonald, who covers all keyboards and all wind instruments; a master of the Mellotron, his flute work is also particularly praiseworthy.
The album boasts but five tracks, all of which are basically straightforward songs on simple chord sequences with lyrics, courtesy of lyricist and poet Pete Sinfield, mostly incorporating the usual science-fantasy noodlings of the era, but with each song featuring a contrasting freeform instrumental section. 21st Century Schizoid Man leads off with a nightmarish, distorted vision of a Michael Moorcock world, giving way to a fractured unison passage with impressive ensemble playing from all four musicians. I Talk To The Wind is a mellow, elegiac piece featuring gorgeous muted licks throughout from Fripp. Epitaph, my favourite track, invites comparisons with contemporaneous Moody Blues, being a powerful song drenched in Mellotron strings. Moonchild is another mellow epic with a long coda in which Fripp’s guitar holds an extended freeform conversation with McDonald’s Fender Rhodes, while Giles politely tries to horn in on the discussion. The Court Of The Crimson King, the band’s signature tune, closes proceedings in powerful style, ending with a charming nursery pipe organ recapitulation of the main theme.
There’s a lot of variation in dynamics here; the CD helpfully eliminates the annoyance caused by vinyl surface noise during the quieter passages. If I have any criticisms, they are minor: the use of a similar, slightly plodding 4/4 time signature  throughout, and the long coda of Moonchild perhaps rather outstaying its welcome. However, this remains a classic of early prog, and one arguably not bettered by any later lineup of Crimson. For immediately after the ensuing lengthy US tour, McDonald and Giles both quit, and Lake abandoned ship during the recording of the follow-up In The Wake Of Poseidon, leaving Fripp to build again from scratch. He probably didn’t succeed at this level again till the brilliant Belew/Levin/Bruford guitar-based lineup of the eighties.

In The Court of the Crimson King

I bought In The Court Of The Crimson King straight after seeing Crimson support the Rolling Stones at the Hyde Park free concert in 1969. The then almost unknown Crimson delivered by far the strongest set of the day. I’ve listened to it periodically over the ensuing forty years, first on vinyl and latterly remixed on CD, and it still impresses me.

There are some fine musicians here. Bandleader and composer Robert Fripp can rock out on guitar with the best of the rest, but is happiest on avant-garde improvisations with a cool mellow tone. Drummer Mike Giles has all the jazzy chops. Bassist Greg Lake is also a clear-voiced, expressive singer. Probably the most talented member is Ian McDonald, who covers all keyboards and all wind instruments; a master of the Mellotron, his flute work is also particularly praiseworthy.

The album boasts but five tracks, all of which are basically straightforward songs on simple chord sequences with lyrics, courtesy of lyricist and poet Pete Sinfield, mostly incorporating the usual science-fantasy noodlings of the era, but with each song featuring a contrasting freeform instrumental section. 21st Century Schizoid Man leads off with a nightmarish, distorted vision of a Michael Moorcock world, giving way to a fractured unison passage with impressive ensemble playing from all four musicians. I Talk To The Wind is a mellow, elegiac piece featuring gorgeous muted licks throughout from Fripp. Epitaph, my favourite track, invites comparisons with contemporaneous Moody Blues, being a powerful song drenched in Mellotron strings. Moonchild is another mellow epic with a long coda in which Fripp’s guitar holds an extended freeform conversation with McDonald’s Fender Rhodes, while Giles politely tries to horn in on the discussion. The Court Of The Crimson King, the band’s signature tune, closes proceedings in powerful style, ending with a charming nursery pipe organ recapitulation of the main theme.

There’s a lot of variation in dynamics here; the CD helpfully eliminates the annoyance caused by vinyl surface noise during the quieter passages. If I have any criticisms, they are minor: the use of a similar, slightly plodding 4/4 time signature  throughout, and the long coda of Moonchild perhaps rather outstaying its welcome. However, this remains a classic of early prog, and one arguably not bettered by any later lineup of Crimson. For immediately after the ensuing lengthy US tour, McDonald and Giles both quit, and Lake abandoned ship during the recording of the follow-up In The Wake Of Poseidon, leaving Fripp to build again from scratch. He probably didn’t succeed at this level again till the brilliant Belew/Levin/Bruford guitar-based lineup of the eighties.

:) Original Vinyl | 1969 | Atlantic | search ebay ]
:D CD Reissue | 2004 | Discipline | amazon ]

Chicago Transit Authority (self-titled)

| Art,Classic Rock,Pop,Prog,Psych,RnB
Opinion on what is surely one of the finest debut albums ever made tends to be somewhat polarised these days. Detractors of what eventually, sadly, unforgivably, metamorphosed into the ultimate slush-rock outfit simply ignore it; admirers of the earlier stuff who nonetheless try to distance themselves from the currently unfashionable genre of jazz-rock describe the band as a mainstream hard-rock quartet accompanied by a more-adventurous-than-average Memphis-style horn trio. In fact Chicago Transit Authority has real jazz in bucketloads, alongside blissed-out rock, blues, funk-soul and some wilful psychedelic oddness, particularly in the lyrics and occasional sound effects. And in this instance the mixture really does work.
The first thing that hits your consciousness is the bullhorn-brash confidence of this nascent outfit. Seven unknown but uncompromising musicians offer as their first recording a double album containing eleven lengthy tracks (and one short prologue). The staple fare is meticulously arranged songs, some of which contain enough modulations and changes of tempo to allow them to qualify as suites. Heaven knows how long they rehearsed to get their sh*t this tight, but they are that good and they know it. What other band had the chutzpah to include on its debut a seven-minute solo guitar piece comprising only electronic feedback, long before Lou Reed or Neil Young did so? No wonder the guitarist can be heard laughing into the amplifier mike half way through the piece. He’s not giving the finger to the record company; he’s saying, this isn’t gratuitous noise, this is our art: make up your own mind whether it’s valid.
All the musicians are excellent, but in particular guitarist Terry Kath can give Hendrix a fright in the sustain/widdling stakes (Poem 58: reportedly, Jimi rated him as a peer) and can perform a continually-inventive twelve-minute strut on the pentatonic comparable to Frank Zappa at his best (Liberation). Yes, the horns can throw in the choreographed stabs, but they show themselves capable of ambitious yet economical improv soloing (Introduction). Together, the septet move beyond finely honed jazzy pieces (Beginnings) through a bludgeoning riff-blues (South California Purples) to a latin-drenched drum solo (the fine cover of Steve Winwood’s I’m A Man), while the lyrics veer from hippy-dippy mysticism (Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?) to abrupt political statement (Prologue, August 29, 1968 / Someday). The latter segues seamlessly and intelligently out of the former, a location recording of a chanting civil rights crowd, to drum the message home.
Chicago’s second release was also a jazzy double album, but the experimental weirdness was gone, leaving only a more sterile virtuosity. After that, it was downhill all the way to If You Leave Me Now. Chicago Transit Authority stands as their finest.

Chicago Transit Authority

Opinion on what is surely one of the finest debut albums ever made tends to be somewhat polarised these days. Detractors of what eventually, sadly, unforgivably, metamorphosed into the ultimate slush-rock outfit simply ignore it; admirers of the earlier stuff who nonetheless try to distance themselves from the currently unfashionable genre of jazz-rock describe the band as a mainstream hard-rock quartet accompanied by a more-adventurous-than-average Memphis-style horn trio. In fact Chicago Transit Authority has real jazz in bucketloads, alongside blissed-out rock, blues, funk-soul and some wilful psychedelic oddness, particularly in the lyrics and occasional sound effects. And in this instance the mixture really does work.

The first thing that hits your consciousness is the bullhorn-brash confidence of this nascent outfit. Seven unknown but uncompromising musicians offer as their first recording a double album containing eleven lengthy tracks (and one short prologue). The staple fare is meticulously arranged songs, some of which contain enough modulations and changes of tempo to allow them to qualify as suites. Heaven knows how long they rehearsed to get their sh*t this tight, but they are that good and they know it. What other band had the chutzpah to include on its debut a seven-minute solo guitar piece comprising only electronic feedback, long before Lou Reed or Neil Young did so? No wonder the guitarist can be heard laughing into the amplifier mic half way through the piece. He’s not giving the finger to the record company; he’s saying, this isn’t gratuitous noise, this is our art: make up your own mind whether it’s valid.

All the musicians are excellent, but in particular guitarist Terry Kath can give Hendrix a fright in the sustain/widdling stakes (Poem 58: reportedly, Jimi rated him as a peer) and can perform a continually-inventive twelve-minute strut on the pentatonic comparable to Frank Zappa at his best (Liberation). Yes, the horns can throw in the choreographed stabs, but they show themselves capable of ambitious yet economical improv soloing (Introduction). Together, the septet move beyond finely honed jazzy pieces (Beginnings) through a bludgeoning riff-blues (South California Purples) to a latin-drenched drum solo (the fine cover of Steve Winwood’s I’m A Man), while the lyrics veer from hippy-dippy mysticism (Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?) to abrupt political statement (Prologue, August 29, 1968 / Someday). The latter segues seamlessly and intelligently out of the former, a location recording of a chanting civil rights crowd, to drum the message home.

Chicago’s second release was also a jazzy double album, but the experimental weirdness was gone, leaving only a more sterile virtuosity. After that, it was downhill all the way to If You Leave Me Now. Chicago Transit Authority stands as their finest.

“Prologue, August 29, 1968”

:D CD Reissue | 2002 | Rhino | amazon ]
:) Original Vinyl | 1969 | Columbia | search ebay ]
;) MP3 Album | download ]
8-) Spotify link | listen ]