I'm sure everyone knows that the Spooky Tooth album just posted was not the first psych mass. I'm not certain, but I think this might be it though. While played by some of the Electric Prunes, this is really the work of the beloved by crate digger producer, David Axelrod. One track was even featured in Easy Rider. But that movie is overrated and I haven't seen it since Junior High. Too bad about Dennis Hopper though.
Attention weirdos, if you don't have this, then you're not as weird as you think. This is one of those lovely dollar finds (at a record show nonetheless). Man, I definitely got a lot for that buck. And it's now yours for free. If you're familiar with the hard rock choogle of Spooky Tooth (love that sound too), you might not expect them to team up with French electro wizard Pierre Henry. That itself is pretty unusual. But then have them make "an electronic mass," and you're definitely heading into the tin foil suit/pet albatross levels of lunacy. While I can't abide by the religious fervor, I can certainly support the ambition. Still prefer the electronic satanic masses though.
This jazz gypsy is definitely up there in the list of ultimate guitar masters. Few people can sustain such clean, beautiful melodies, then switch to some odd space psych, to near freak outs all within the cover of a cheesey pop song. I think The Sorcerer might be my favorite of his albums, mostly due to the inclusion of the interstellar masterpiece, Space, but this album is where Szabo was really starting to expand his ear and stretch it out (sitar all over the place). And there's a cover of Paint it black to boot.
Twink (aka John Adler) was laying down the beat on some of the best British psych discs of all time. The Pretty Things, Pink Fairies, Stars (w/Syd Barrett). All classics. Put this one in the classics list too. Members of the Deviants and all the other Brit underground luminaries are in attendance. With Victor Unit & Paul Rudolph on board, you know there's some serious psych guitar here. All this contributes to the general weirdness that you'd come to expect from this psychedelic pioneer. Even his out takes & home recordings (released sometime back) are all worth hearing. 
I don't know how popular nuggets style 60s rock was in German when these guys released their debut (1981, I think). I'm sure V.U. the Monks, and rock that G.I.s brought over still had some resonance. So it doesn't seem all that surprising that these guys would take up that sound, slow it down, drug it out, and fuck it with some buzzy electronics. Finally, these guys are getting some hype. Much to late, as it typically the case.
I think it's pretty easy to class Rikk Agnew as in the top tier of all time cool as hell California punks. Playing in Social Distortion, the Adolescents, Christian Death, and D.I. is pretty god damned impressive. Most, I'm sure, would rest on their laurels have played with just one of these groups. But this, as the title implies, is Rikk at his most onanistic. Playing all instruments himself, Agnew forgoes the sideman role he has often filled in the past and really created a classic. Still a supremely under appreciated gem.
I'd say most of the esp-disk catalog is pretty damned untouchable when it comes to consistently wigged out sonic mind fucks. And spanning out jazz, strummy folk, psych lunacy, etc, it's a pretty broad spectrum that they covered. Of all the albums they released, this always received high marks in my book. Lotsa clatter and stompin' fucked blues grass sounds. These dudes were certainly weird. Weird enough that even Sam Shepard joined their ranks for this album. And really, this album reminds me of a time when records had some amazing album covers. With all the photoshop nonsense I keep seeing, it's easy to forget the cover as a real artform. This wasn't made on some fucking computer.
I know how vampires are the big trendy thing now. Every semester I have to read some half baked analysis on the vampire as a figure of sexual potency. And much as I love blood suckers, I have to say that barring Let the Right One In, I haven't seen a good vampire flick in quite some time. This soundtrack to Romero's classic, is the prefect blend of musique concrete, odd synth nightmares, and general avant guardiness that makes this the perfect accompaniment for this creep fest. Can't recommend this film or the music highly enough. Of course, horror movies set in Pittsburgh always score highly around these parts.
I think sometimes my friends are confused on how a guy like me has dated some girls who are admittedly out of my league. Well, I suppose it's time to reveal my secret. It totally works. Place a live turtle under your bed and put some mint leafs in your pillow case....
Since I just mentioned this guy I figure I should cough up the goods lest there be people unfamiliar with his work. For my money this guy is up their with Cosey for one of the best guitarists Chicago ever produced. But he never really became that much of a house hold name despite playing on cuts by Curtis Mayfield, B.B. King, Dizzy Gillespie, Donny Hathaway, etc. Don't worry though, Upchurch isn't interested in some wanky shred fest. He opts for a much more melodic and smooth (at times jazzy) tone that can be real appealing. There's even a few Hendrix covers thrown in for good measure. Oh, and Charles Stepney (another Chicago god) is involved, if that means anything to you. And this cover rules too.
I know blues purist really hate this album, but you know what, I really hate blues purists. My experience is that they're typically some overly educated, whinny, white person who's more concerned with posturing that enjoying the music. So if you're of that disposition, than this ain't the album for you. Go feel guilty elsewhere. But if you want to hear when Muddy got all psychedelic then this might bend your ear. And with Phil Upchurch & Pete Cosey involved, you can imagine that the guitar is top flight. Melt your mind.
Indisputably, Jesse Hector has the best sideburns in rawk history. Go ahead and look it up and try to challenge that claim. These punk-before-punk hooligans were cracking skulls while most were donning their kaftans. So far ahead of their time they were that they sound more relevant now than ever before. I recently had the pleasure of punching in some stupid fuck's hood (the idiot didn't realize that people in the cross walk had the right of way); this music sums up those types of feelings you experience at moments like that.
No joke, one time I was in some bullshit clothing store and I heard a horrendous reggaefied version of "Another Girl, Another Planet." Ugh...it was just unbelievably bad. Imagine, one of the best odes to heroin used to hawk overpriced phony retro clothes (I wasn't in there for my own clothes). What are these people thinking? Why fuck with such a classic? Well, here's your chance to listen to the original in all of its awesomeness. And just in time for the Belmont too.
Time to meditate and try not to think about the army dude who threatened to rip my face off the other night. Oh, he also told me that he gets a hard on from killing people. Not sure if that was supposed to be a come on or what. The best thing about this neck-as-wide-as-head dingbat was his touching account of his friend who lost both leg and hand (how this occurred was rather muddled but he did seem to insinuate that it was from some type of torture). After this harrowing tale of severe trauma the one thing that really got me was when this near tears brute turned and said with a tone rife with regret, "Man, he'll never get to play playstation again." So here's some Pharoah Sanders for you.
Some time back I bought a massive stack of cdrs off of Roots of Madness leader Don Campau and at a couple of bucks a piece I felt like I robbed the guy. Out of that stack it's hard to cull just one album, but I suppose this is their most known work (which means maybe a like a thousand people) so why not go with it? They're a hard band to describe. Circa 1971 there were maybe a handful of bands that this would probably be on the same planet with. Red Krayola & Nihilist Spasm band may be the first few to come to mind. So it's weird to say the least. There's folky strum ups, poetry, piano composition, even the dreaded harmonica makes an appearance (why?). This was reissued a few years back, but it never really seemed to get the attention it deserves. Don't sleep on it again. Don't you want to hear a song called "The Old Man's Ass?"
I've been hitting the Chicago punk pipe pretty hard lately. I can't explain why. Nostalgia? Reconnecting with my roots? Who the fuck knows/cares. I am well aware that most people rate my hometown pretty low on the punk totem pole, but those people often neglect the fuzz punk awesomeness of this group and instead spend more time talking about how Vic Bondi is a prick (I don't know if he is since I never met the gent, but this is just something people seem to be interested in discussing). Well, I'll admit the city wasn't punk heaven or anything, but it was certainly weird enough to function as a petri dish breeding things of this ilk. I have to say, this super distorted guitar is fucking fantastic. The simplicity and psychosis make this an overall pretty depressive album, at least to me that is.
This is here because this band has been coming up in conversation a lot lately. I don't know why. Nor do I pretend to begrudge those who wish to speak positively of Rockford's favorite sons. I've been to Rockford many a time (I really do not know why however), and to think this was a product of that environ is quite perplexing. Anyways, here's a decent live show on their home turf. Fuck the naysayers, this shit rules.
This is certainly a record that demonstrates what we lose when we move from the physical to the virtual. If ever there was a record to be held, it could very well be this one. It's velvety soft sleeve just cries to be rubbed on your cheek like the end of a dog's ear. And some fools might laugh at the fact that I'm posting a Bee Gees record, but clearly those people are not familiar with their early psych pop brilliance. This is some high caliber orch pop that tops all those lesser heard albums obscurantists pride themselves on knowing. Hey, sometimes shit can be popular and great too. At least that's how it used to be.
Is there anything more creepy than religious zealots singing about their love of Jesus? Yes, it's when the musical accompaniment is some screwball, lo-fi, electro-psych. I make no claims that this will be universally loved, but if you can get past the preachiness and appreciate it for what it is, I think most will enjoy this. Way creepier than some dude in make up singing about Satan, because these people actually believe it all.
If you're only familiar with Moore's work as a perma-drunk, snooty, twat then first you need to listen to his offensively hilarious team up with Peter Cook as Derek & Clive. Most people don't get the joke and just think it's racist drivel, but like most good comedy, idiots are always going to misread its intent, since they are often the target. After you've given that a listen then you might be interested in Moore's musical work. While I won't claim this is the best soundtrack or anything, I do stand by the title track and all it's weird phasing, droll delivery, and psych oddness. Even the horrible remake of this film (experts shat out by crap master Brendan Frazier) does nothing to diminish the joys of the original. Still worth a watch.
One more from the NWW list. I knew this would be something I would love since I can easily can trace my decision to teach English to Edward Gorey's illustrations for John Bellairs. Gorey's own work continues to be read frequently around these parts. So a prog album which uses his stories as its lyrical content was something I knew I'd love. Just look at the rest of the players. Normally, anything involving Robert Wyatt is something I want to hear. Add in all those other names and you know what to expect.
Time to brush up on your Kobaïan people. You know, that language these Franco-lunatics invented to sing their crazed prog epics. This band seems like something a bunch of composition geeks would cream over, but I don't know shit about music theory, so I'll leave the academics to others better than I. And there's some story arc to this album, involving archeologists and ancient tombs and some other shit. That I shall leave to the true geeks who obsessively pour over these nonsensical lyrics (Magma has some pretty devote followers). There's a certain Trekkie appeal I suppose, but look past that and see this as a real prog classic it is.
So here's some awesome things I've seen thus far today"
