Continuing the funk rock theme from yesterday, with added filth and fiddles from the man like Papa John Creach. This album is worth the entry price for the sleeve alone, but the musical contents are a smutty, oily bonus from this erstwhile contributor to the Hot Tuna lineup (as featured in an August post) and all round string-groping legend.
The sleaze and smog emanating from the City Of Angels clearly rubbed off on Tim Buckley in a good way. This is six minutes plus of him yelping and pining for some big mama to hop on his Johnson, backed up by a driving bassline, choppy, hard-assed percussion, grooved hammond organ and tricksy guitar inflections. This lascivious funk rock sprawl is an agreeable change from his early, earnest folk-rock efforts. Music for an open-topped tan Sedan barrelling down the freeway with an accommodating chick riding shotgun.
Well are you? Or were you? More west coast psych/garage rock fare from the preposterously named Chocolate Watchband, which can't help but stir memories of Spinal Tap during their Flower People phase. CW's 'No Way Out' album is full of good flavours though - lots of bluesy psychedelia in songs like 'Milk Cow Blues' and 'Gone And Passes By'. The mind boggles as to the scenes that might've taken place at the 'love-in' - there's probably reams of footage of it on a super-8 camera in the attic of a hippie-turned-goat farmer in Cornwall somewhere.
We have Link Wray to thank for the invention of the power chord, as flexed in early hits like the titanic 'Rumble', which laid the foundation stones for, erm, rock music basically. We also have to thank him for the brilliantly lo-fi output he made during the early 70's. This tune is lifted off his down-home, 3-track recorded, self-titled album, which was executed in the space of 3 days in a chicken shed. It gives a taste of the scratchy, charm-filled brilliance that permeates the whole album and others of the period such as 'Beans And Fatback' and 'Mordicai Jones'. This kit can't come recommended more highly for fans of blues/country rock in the vein of Exile On Main St. etc.
Most of what you'd probably like to know about this brilliant delta blues & country singer can be found at the MJH Museum site. It looks like the coolest museum on earth.
Bit of a departure from the usual rock-based fare this morning, but as yours truly will be going under the knife of a somewhat cavalier doctor for a knee injury later today, this psychedelic dub mood piece sort of captures the feeling of unfocussed tension in the air chez moi. Sly & Robbie get cooking on this cut from the irritatingly rare and hard to find 'Disco Dub' LP from 1979. On the bright side my doctor didn't have a bone through his nose and a goat's head cup full of bat's blood last time i visited.
A snippet of Hammond-funk rock from the son of Johnny Otis off his first solo LP 'Here Comes Shuggie Otis'. He used to wear fake moustaches and sunglasses to get into clubs aged 12 and played bass on Zappa's iconic, parp-march 'Peaches En Regalia'. He also wrote 'Strawberry Letter 23' as covered by Brothers Johnson, and obviously had fret skills to burn.
Let's hope Mickey found peace in the garden of his mind shortly after committing this to the tapes, because the general vibe is anything but tranquil in this short, de-railed steam train trip through garage psychedelia wilderness. In fact his mind sounds more like a quagmire than a garden, but there's plenty of hidden paths and water features of interest nontheless.
Once heard a quote from someone saying that Neil Young was a crap guitarist and that he always sounded like there was a solo in there somewhere but he just couldn't get it out. This says bollocks. Anyone fortunate enough to catch the be-gripped legend performing live on his Chrome Dreams UK tour will have had this track etched indelibly on their subconscious. Searing heat from a man that just won't stop doing it for the love of music, unlike some of his rock dinosaur contemporaries out to fund their latest island or personalised range of grooming products.
Unusual take on the Beatles' original acid anthem 'Tomorrow Never Knows' by this fleeting supergroup comprised of Eno, Phil Manzanera and others. The band only played 3 live gigs in total and its a real bonus that the bassist Bill MacCormick had the foresight to bring a tape recorder to one of the rehearsals. The results are a 'live album' including this cover which craps all over anything Roxy Music happened to be spewing out at a similar time. Also of interest might be Dweezil Zappa's cover of 'Tomorrow Never Knows' which takes things into cosmic, ambient techno territories!? What won't be of interest (except for poor comedy value) is the Phil Collins cover, which is total bilge.
Gene Clarke is buried in Tipton, Missouri - his headstone simply reads: "Harold Eugene Clarke - No Other". He was the underrated mastermind behind much of The Byrds' best output. His solo album from 1974 was way ahead of its time, fusing gospel and choral elements with country, folk and psychedelia to produce a heady and intoxicating sound. This is a great taster for an album that rewards and grows on you with each listen.
Disorientating, fuzzed-out rock from one of the original psychedelic bands of the West Coast scene. Primal Scream covered the 13th's song 'Slip Inside This House' on the seminal 'Screamadelica' album, whilst other bands as diverse as Spacemen 3 and ZZ Top have acknowledged the Elevators' influence. This tune is a mumbling, wrangling lick-fest topped with lyrics about escaping to the country (or something like that) all wrapped up in a metallic cloud of reverb and general garage juice. Unleash the freaks.
Mystical band name? Check. Voice of an angel? Check. Not one but two of the greatest finger-picking style guitarists the UK has ever produced? Double check. Pentangle had it all and their kaleidoscopic brand of folk rock really broke with the stuffy traditional 'folk purists' and went off in new and exciting directions. The five sides of the band really cook on this one. The interplay between Bert Jansch and John Renbourn is telepathic, Jacqui McShee's voice is as illuminating as ever, Danny Thompson plods erratically and jazzicly on upright bass whilst Terry Cox does things with his drums that sound like they should be easily replicated but really aren't. A good live version off French TV from 1972 shows the band in all their jumpered and greasy-locked finery
In the wake of moderate and stratospheric success with Buffalo Springfield and CSNY respectively, came this brilliant solo album from Stills in 1970. The pink giraffe on the cover might be seen as a surreal nod towards the degeneration that was to come, like some foreboding projection of Stills' coked-up subconscious. Just at that moment though, he remained in control of all his faculties - most notably his guitar playing finesse, which has always been right up there in people's estimations.
