Jive Time Turntable

Steve Cropper “With A Little Help From My Friends” (Volt, 1969)

The legendary R&B/soul/rock guitarist Steve Cropper passed away on December 3 at age 84, and respect must be paid. Best known for his work with Stax Records’ tight-as-hell house band Booker T. & The MGs, Cropper played on hundreds of important sessions and on dozens of hits by Otis Redding, Wilson Pickett, and others. He also (co)wrote and produced many of his own classics and chart-dwellers, performed with the early Stax house band the Mar-Keys, and maintained a solid solo career. As many of you know, Cropper was one of the most economical and soulful guitarists ever to plug in.

Wanting to honor the master’s passing, I was tempted to review one of Booker T. & The MGs’ many influential instrumental albums, but decided to focus attention on a lesser-known work: his debut solo LP, With A Little Help From My Friends. It’s a fantastic showcase for Cropper’s R&B and rock chops, and it gives him room to spread his wings more than he could with the concise, precision-tooled tunes he cut with the MGs—that is, until 1970’s expansive Melting Pot. (Cropper’s 1969 collab with gospel/R&B/blues guitar giants Pop Staples and Albert King, Jammed Together, is also worthwhile.)

“Crop-Dustin’” sets My Friends‘ righteous tone; it’s groove-heavy, horn-blasted R&B that makes you wanna keep on truckin’, cowritten with Band Of Gypsys/Electric Flag drummer Buddy Miles. Steve and company turn Chris Kenner’s “Land Of 1000 Dances” into a sizzling banger—no surprise, as it’s never not sounded exhilarating, no matter who’s covering it. Of course, Cropper solos like the champion he is. On another oft-covered chestnut, Pickett/Cropper/Eddie Floyd’s “99 ½,” Cropper’s eloquent, scorched guitar calligraphy elevates one of the sexiest and most ominous soul classics ever to the top of the heap.

“Boo-Ga-Loo Down Broadway” and “Funky Broadway” (the 1966 Dyke & The Blazers dancer) deliver funky, good-time music with a lascivious bass lines and Cropper’s extravagantly soulful licks. The title track is not exactly an obvious choice for a Beatles cover, but it fits with the album’s theme. (Strange, then, that musician credits are largely absent!) Cropper blows the song out into an organ-intensive exposition that rivals Joe Cocker’s bombastic take. With contributions from guitarist Michael Toles and bassist James Alexander, “Oh, Pretty Woman” sounds nothing like Roy Orbison or Van Halen’s renditions. This one is more menacing, as Cropper solos with a seething intensity.

The album closes with a couple of Pickett/Cropper joints: One of Steve’s biggest hits, “In The Midnight Hour,” is given the hip instro treatment, while in the shaker-heavy “Rattlesnake,” Cropper gets off some fleet-fingered filigrees, but lets the horn section steal the glory.

Don’t come to With A Little Help From My Friends expecting anything that sounds like Booker T. & The MGs’ “Green Onions,” the 1962 minimalist masterpiece that established their lean, propulsive soul approach. Here, Cropper and his buddies go for an extravagant, party-igniting attack. It sounds like it was as fun to make as it is to listen to. Rest in power, Mr. Cropper. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Parliament “Funkentelechy Vs. The Placebo Syndrome” (Casablanca, 1977)

If you attended a hip party in the late 1970s, you likely heard tracks from Parliament‘s Funkentelechy Vs. The Placebo Syndrome at it. “Flash Light” was all over the radio in the Detroit area back then, and at my high school ca. 1977-78 it was our undisputed anthem. No wonder it’s been sampled 214 times over the decades, becoming one of the foundations of hip-hop and various styles of dance music. But Funkentelechy has many more delights than that transcendentally brilliant classic.

Before we get into the songs, though, it should be noted that Funkentelechy is a loose concept album about the pitfalls of consumerism and disco (aka “The Placebo Syndrome”), the latter representing the bastardization of true funk, according to bandleader George Clinton. Funkentelechy is basically a manifesto about funk’s liberating powers. But knowing this catalyzing source isn’t at all mandatory for enjoyment of the record.

By the mid ’70s, Clinton had amassed a massive, talented group that boasted members of Funkadelic (genius keyboardist Bernie Worrell, guitarist Michael Hampton, bassist Cordell Mosson) and James Brown alumni such as Maceo Parker, Bootsy and Phelps Collins, and Fred Wesley. Backing singers such as Lynn Mabry, Dawn Silva, and Mallia Franklin added crucial flavor to these funk and R&B bombs.

Opener “Bop Gun (Endangered Species)”—itself sampled 38 times, including multiple instances by Ice Cube— is a bulbous, bubbly funk/disco hybrid elevated by extraordinarily soulful vocals by the powerhouse Glenn Goins. Beneath the vocal fireworks, some wonderfully complex and funky filigrees happen with the guitar, bass, horns, and keyboards. A change of pace comes with oft-sampled “Sir Nose D’Voidoffunk (Pay Attention – B3M),” a leisurely funk epic with absurdist elements, including allusions to “Three Blind Mice” and “Ba Ba Black Sheep,” goofy backing vox, and Bootsy’s languid drawls. All that said, does “Bop Gun” need to be 10 minutes long? No. it’s followed by the LP’s only real dud, “Wizard Of Finance,” whose slick R&B balladry tilts into schmaltz, despite its lurid horn charts and rich, liquid synth bass.

If you want to hear where Chicago rockers Urge Overkill got their name, check out “Funkentelechy.” The song earns its 11-minute run time with jaunty, wiggle-worthy funk and phenomenal vocal arrangements. Littered with advertising catchphrases of the time (“You deserve a break today,” “Have it your way,” etc.), “Funkentelechy” testifies that funk is the cure for whatever ails ya. Call it a danceable self-fulfilling prophecy…

Now this view may be blasphemy to some, but “Placebo Syndrome” is low-key Funkentelechy‘s peak. It’s not so much funk as it is preternaturally euphoric psychedelic soul. Lead vocalist Silva (I think it’s her) just kills it with her silky tones, contrasting with Mosson’s gruff emoting. Bonus: Worrell gets off a serpentine, oddly tuned keyboard solo in this song that would segue well with a Rotary Connection joint. I’m totally obsessed with “Placebo Syndrome” and rank it near the summit of the P-Funk canon; at the least, it’s the most blissful, beautiful song they’d done since “The Silent Boatman” from 1970’s Osmium.

Last but certainly not least, “Flash Light” bestows an ultimate highlight reel of mid-’70s funkenstein-ian molecular activity. Worrell unleashes a surfeit of Moog bass thrills, a masterclass in groove dynamics and tonal thickness. The elite vocal calisthenics here would put many gospel choirs in the shade. (Trivia: This was the pinnacle of clap-enhanced beats until Zapp’s “More Bounce To The Ounce” and George Clinton’s “Atomic Dog” entered the world in 1980 and 1982, respectively.) For “Flash Light”’s 5:46 duration, every blessed neuron in your body is firing at max capacity. True, “Everybody’s got a little light under the sun,” but in 1977, few shone brighter than Parliament’s. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

The United States Of America “The United States Of America” (Columbia, 1968)

Maybe you heard the news: The innovative musician/composer Joseph Byrd passed away on November 2 at age 87. However, as I type, no media outlet has written an obituary. WTAF?! This scandalous state of affairs has nudged me to review the great man’s crowning achievement—the lone album by his short-lived group, the United States Of America. (I hope to cover Byrd’s other major-label opus, 1969’s The American Metaphysical Circus by Joe Byrd And The Field Hippies, in the not-too-distant future.)

In the late-’60s explosion of rock creativity, few artists sounded like the USA. Their only real peers were Silver Apples, White Noise, Fifty Foot Hose, and Spoils Of War. These were bands that threaded electronics into psych-rock songs that often included passages of wild improvisations—or, free form freak-outs, as the Red Crayola called them. The six members of the USA were profoundly talented, led Byrd’s ingenious arrangements and advanced skills on organ, piano, harpsichord, synth, and calliope. In Dorothy Moskowitz, the USA had a singer whose pipes could stoke your libido and melt your heart. Hers was one of the definitive psychedelic-era voices.

“The American Metaphysical Circus” uniquely kicks off this unique LP. A circus music intro gradually morphs into a patriotic marching tune, then shifts into a dreamy psychedelic-pop ballad streaked with nerve-frazzling electronic twitters and whistles as Moskowitz sings like a stoned princess. You can really hear her influence on Broadcast’s Trish Keenan. The lyrics paint a gnomically metaphorical picture of the US as a very unnerving spectacle. “And the price is right/The cost of one admission is your mind,” Dorothy sings, and it feels as if truer words have never been intoned. The electronics get denser and crazier as the song progresses, before Byrd returns to the patriotic bit, with the sarcasm laid on thickly.

Then comes a jump cut to the album’s fiercest psych-rock burner, “Hard Coming Love.” The absolutely stinging guitar lead sounds like Howard Roberts during his tenure with David Axelrod’s Electronic Prunes (bafflingly, no one’s credited with guitar). Have you ever had sex on LSD? Well, if not, just listen to “Hard Coming Love” and you’ll have an idea. The bridge is simply a mad-scientist synth progression, showing the USA’s flamboyant flouting of convention. By contrast, “Cloud Song” is a ballad of unearthly beauty, marked by a courtly harpsichord motif. When Moskowitz coos “How sweet to be a cloud/Floating in the blue,” it sounds like ’60s Joni Mitchell dissolving in Owsley’s finest.

Electronic bird sounds speckle “The Garden Of Earthly Delights,” whose gothic baroque psych dazzles with its fantastic dynamics. Boosted by a seriously bulbous bass line, “I Won’t Leave My Wooden Wife For You” offers loony psych à la Lothar And The Hand People. The lyrics depict a married, hypocritical, suburban man who’s having an affair with a younger co-ed. The coda of patriotic, sentimental orchestrations sounds naggingly familiar.

Side 2 begins with another tangent, “Where Is Yesterday.” Following a hymnal chant in Latin, the track blossoms into gothic-pop splendor, marked by a mesmerizing vocal arrangement featuring violinist Gordon Marron and Moskowitz singing in quasi unison. Their voices and the music are as stunningly gorgeous and ominous as Scott Walker at his darkest. “Coming Down” is archetypal psych rock that should’ve been a hit. Leaving Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit” in the (angel) dust, it’s one of the most cogent songs ever about drug trips, blessed with the revelatory refrain, “Reality is only temporary.” We’re gently brought down to Earth with “Love Song For The Dead Ché,” a romantic swirl of a ballad that deliquesces in a lavender and turquoise haze. The only dud here, “Stranded In Time” is a violin-heavy “Eleanor Rigby” epigone sung by Marron.

The album ends with the three-part suite “The American Way Of Love.” Suite 1, Metaphor For An Older Man, starts with some snide, Mothers Of Invention-like rock, then shifts into trippy and turbulent violin and electronics. California Good-time Music is a spot-on parody of the Mamas & The Papas. Love Is All delivers more Zappa-esque tomfoolery, before it turns into a brain-scrambling “remix” of the album, snippets of every song recurring like a bonkers flashback. The editing is brilliant and ahead of its time. What an insane climax to a one-of-a-kind classic.

Rest in power, Joseph Byrd, you genius you. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Bubble Puppy “A Gathering Of Promises” (International Artists, 1969)

The cover photo of A Gathering Of Promises—with all four members garbed in 18th-century finery—suggests a baroque-pop band à la the Left Banke. And that promise sometimes comes to pass. Which is pretty surprising, given that San Antonio, Texas’ Bubble Puppy recorded their sole album for Lelan Rogers’ International Artists label, home to psychedelic warlords such as 13th Floor Elevators, Red Crayola, and the Golden Dawn. Bubble Puppy’s LP isn’t on that level, but it is a strong slab of rococo hippie rock and another example of one-and-done brilliance. (They would later move to LA, change their name to Demian, and cut a slightly heavier, less catchy record in 1971.)

A Gathering Of Promises opens with Bubble Puppy’s shock Top 20 hit, “Hot Smoke And Sasafrass.” It’s a perfect expression of freewheeling yet tight psych-rock songcraft, full of hairpin twists and turns, accelerations and decelerations, and, as a bonus, a pulse-pounding instrumental passage. Here’s where it becomes clear that having two excellent lead guitarists (Rod Prince and Todd Potter) really elevates your game. On “Hot Smoke And Sasafrass,” Prince and Potter execute the axe-hero equivalent of wheelies. “Todd’s Tune” is a dramatic, windswept power ballad that morphs into a dense, psychedelic workout in the coda. That sort of radical shift in composition marks most of A Gathering Of Promises.

One thing you can’t say about Bubble Puppy: They didn’t write predictable or basic songs. You may not be overjoyed by all of them, but you have to admire the dexterity and invention on display over these 10 tracks. Case in point: the nearly eight-minute “I’ve Got To Reach You.” Reminiscent of Neil Young’s “Cowgirl In The Sand,” but more concise and ornate, it features a complex, corkscrewing guitar solo that would make J Mascis nod his head in approval. And “Lonely” definitely has guitar pyrotechnics that would prompt standing ovations from Dinosaur Jr. fans. If you’re into mellifluous, open-highway hippie rock of great intricacy, you’ll love “Hurry Sundown,” “Road To St. Stephens,” and “Beginnings.”

Another thing about these Bubble Puppy dudes: They’re surprisingly good singers, just a rung below Crosby, Stills & Nash. For contrast, the title track’s an earnest, dew-dappled ballad that hints at the Beatles (think “Dear Prudence”) and Simon & Garfunkel, and, damn it, the Left Banke.

It looks like Sundazed did a recent reissue of A Gathering Of Promises, so copies shouldn’t be too hard to find. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Miles Davis “On The Corner” (Columbia, 1972)

We recently lost the phenomenal jazz-fusion drummer Jack DeJohnette, and tribute must be paid. The man released many great solo LPs, engaged in countless interesting collabs, and sat in on many crucial sessions, but there may be no better way to honor him than to review Miles Davis’ On The Corner. It’s Miles’ peak and, by the way, my second favorite album of all time. (Rest assured, I will likely review one of Jack’s solo or group records in the near future.)

DeJohnette was one of three drummers playing on these sessions (all of which have been collected in a lavish, essential six-CD box set), including Billy Hart and Don Alias. Jack and his cohorts behind the kit—along with an array of percussionists, featuring tabla master Badal Roy and conga supremo Mtume—helped to make On The Corner a tornado of innovative rhythm. But it’s so much more than that, as well.

With On The Corner, Davis strove to appeal to the young Black Americans who dug Jimi Hendrix, James Brown, and Sly & the Family Stone. Yeah, that didn’t pan out. Insult to injury, the establishment jazz critics couldn’t handle it, either. They were vexed by one of the most rhythmically complex, atmospherically ominous, and brutally psychedelic works ever to get classified as “jazz.” In hindsight, you have to wonder how they blew it so badly.

The funny thing is, Davis was in the midst of a heavy Karlheinz Stockhausen phase before heading up the On The Corner sessions. How he thought that the German avant-garde composer’s abstruse electronic experiments would inspire him to construct accessible songs remains a mystery. Whereas earlier milestones such as In A Silent Way and Bitches Brew deftly blended jazz, rock, and funk, On The Corner alchemized those genres until they combusted into something otherworldly and unprecedented.

On The Corner‘s first four tracks bleed into one another, an infernal medley, of which every second is loaded with portent. The record starts in media res, just as the band’s reaching a boiling point of panther-stealthy funk. Sax and trumpet dart and flow over Roy’s humid tabla patter and an OCD-groove bass line by Michael Henderson that would put a perma-grin on Holger Czukay’s mug. John McLaughlin creates utterly filthy wah-wah guitar parts, hiccuping and growling with brute eloquence, and Miles matches that with his own wah’d counterpunches. This shit is too XXX-rated for blaxploitation-flick soundtracks. There’s a Cubist aspect to the way the instruments abut one another, a disorienting legerdemain with arrangements that attest to producer Teo Macero’s mastery in the editing suite—with counsel from Mr. Davis, of course. Even when the intensity slightly diminishes, the vibe remains tense, exuding a looming danger that’s downright thrilling, thanks in part to Khalil Balakrishna and Collin Walcott’s glowering sitar drones.

“Black Satin” is the standalone standout, a blazing precursor to the drum & bass genre about 20 years before the fact. The rhythm makes it feel as if the ground is shifting beneath your feet and the Earth is spinning off its axis, as the sound whirls in five dimensions. Trust me, you’ve never heard a more disorienting use of bell tree and handclaps in your life. Listen to “Black Satin” on headphones while tripping and journey to the mountains of madness. Sly & Robbie bravely covered this on Language Barrier, but even those geniuses couldn’t match the sorcery happening here.

On the second side, “One And One” finds Henderson producing one of the illest bass tones ever, like a duck quacking after swallowing a bullfrog. Roy’s tabla and Mtume’s conga madly percolate under Miles’ poignantly undulating trumpet, and those urgent bells tickle your medulla oblongata. Toss in some of DeJohnette’s demonic cymbal work and lethal snare slaps and revel in a band cooking some of the spiciest fusion stew your ears have ever tasted.

Smashed together at album’s end, “Helen Butte” and “Mr. Freedom X” are essentially vibrant mutations of the “One And One” and “Black Satin” themes. The torque on these rhythms generates crazy sparks, with Jack and Hart’s beats hitting like sweetest revenge. These tracks tilt beyond funk into a futuristic, alien music for unfathomable rituals and contortionist sexual encounters, played by musicians with superhuman reflexes and instincts. Either that or it’s all studio magic… Either way, Miles, Jack, and company—in fact, every single person who contributed to On The Corner—became immortals for manifesting this masterpiece. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Passport “Cross-Collateral” (ATCO, 1975)

German saxophonist/clarinetist/composer Klaus Doldinger—who passed away in October at age 89—is best known (and likely best paid) for his soundtracks to Das Boot and The NeverEnding Story (with Giorgio Moroder). But true heads dig Doldinger more for his run of albums during the ’70s as leader of jazz-rock dynamos Passport. Basically, if you see any Passport LP whose cover was designed by Wandrey’s Studio, grab it. You can tell them by the frequent use of majority blue backgrounds and surrealist, Magritte-like illustrations.

Honestly, I could’ve chosen any of the six action-packed studio albums that Passport released between 1971 and 1976 to review, but I’m going with Cross-Collateral because it boasts my favorite cover by the band. Bonus: The music’s scorching jazz-rock that’ll have your head spinning at all the Teutonic virtuosity on display. Doldinger, of course, is a demon on sax, clarinet, Mellotron, Moog, and electric piano, but his band deserves respect, too: drummer/percussionist Curt Cress, bassist/guitarist Wolfgang Schmid, and Fender pianist/organist Kristian Schultze.

Cross-Collateral begins auspiciously with “Homunculus,” a rhythmically mercurial and intricate cut with a memorably soaring melody. “Homunculus” can hold its own with the greatest American fusion groups and would slot nicely in a DJ set between Return To Forever and Weather Report. The 13:32 title track is an absolute burner from start to finish, rumbling into a turbulent start-stop attack, with Doldinger blowing frantic, fluid gold and Cress going mad with eight-limbed fury. There’s a strutting funk passage—bolstered by Cress’ inventive fills and Schmid’s tensile, buoyant bass lines—that reminds you of how often hip-hop producers sampled Passport. J Dilla, Company Flow, the Pharcyde, Ultramagnetic MCs, and Boogie Down Productions are the most notable to do so.

The relatively concise “Jadoo” also bears sample-worthy traits—plus, it’s so funky and kinetic, it could be a sports-highlight jam from the KPM music library. The gripping, corkscrewing jazz-funk of “Will-O’The-Wisp” would make mid-’70s Herbie Hancock nod in approval, while “Albatross Song” channels the chill, groovy vibes of Miles Davis’ In A Silent Way. The only misstep is the smooth-jazz snoozer “Damals.”

From today’s perspective, it’s crazy to realize that a major label championed music as complicated and un-radio-friendly as Passport’s. And that unlikely scenario has led to the group’s albums being fairly affordable in used bins (the most I’ve ever paid for a Passport LP is $5.99). It’s never too late—nor too expensive—to get into Klaus Doldinger’s bag. May he rest in power. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Diga Rhythm Band “Diga” (Round/United Artists, 1976)

Featuring Grateful Dead drummer Mickey Hart and tabla master Zakir Hussein (Shakti, Shanti, etc.), Diga Rhythm Band recorded only one album, but it’s a doozy. Among Dead diaspora records, Diga ranks near the top, along with Garcia, Hooteroll? (by Howard Wales and Jerry Garcia), and Ned Lagin’s Seastones.

With members in the double figures, Diga Rhythm Band have the tools for a percussion orgy, with Ray Spiegel’s vibes and Jim Loveless’ marimba providing melodies. Other instruments struck and plucked include congas, bongos, gong, timbales, duggi tarang, and tar. Diga is a true East-meets-West hoedown, and the beats often come at you fast, complexly, and in a multitude of timbres. Incredible Bongo Band had nothing on these quick-wristed badasses.

Discogs has appended genres such as “jazz,” “folk,” “world,” and “free improv” to Diga, but the album transcends categorization. It sounds more like a pure expression of creativity that comes from hitting various percussion instruments for the sheer transportive hell of it. For example, “Sweet Sixteen,” which starts with a luscious melody on vibes and bulbous and swift tabla slaps; when Hart’s drums kick in, the track takes flight. Later, we get a big percussion breakdown and then a flamboyant finale. Talk about a mood-elevator…

At nearly 13 minutes, “Magnificent Sevens” exemplifies the record’s brilliant dynamics, its surging power rushes and dramatic rests. Moving from eerie ambient mode—with distant gong hits and murmuring vibes—to mind-bogglingly mercurial slaps, DRB produce a veritable hail-storm-on-a-tin-roof scenario. Additionally, they definitively prove that vibes coupled with tablas is a divine confluence of tonalities. The LP’s other epic, “Tal Mala” also showcases DRB’s inexhaustible rhythmic inventiveness.

The two tracks on which Jerry Garcia guests are the shortest and most accessible to Western ears. “Happiness Is Drumming,” stands as the most conventionally “rock” song here; it presaged “Fire On The Mountain” from the Dead’s 1978 album, Shakedown Street. Garcia’s languid, fluid guitar stars on this laid-back beauty, with Hart doling out heavy-handed snare hits. Jerry alternates between stun-gun guitar and jazzy, pointillistic mode on the Spiegel composition “Razooli,” which also features a loopy, undulating marimba motif over swiftly pattering congas.

Diga isn’t exactly rare, but it ain’t too common, either. I scored my copy at Jive Time for $15 about a decade ago. The price may have crept up since then. Whatever the case, it’s pretty much a bargain at whatever sum you find it. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

The Moody Blues “In Search Of The Lost Chord” (Deram, 1968)

While mourning the recent death of Moody Blues bassist/vocalist John Lodge (RIP!), I realized that we’ve not reviewed any albums by his elegant and quite popular British psych-rock group. A very puzzling state of affairs, to be sure. So, time to remedy that oversight.

In Search Of The Lost Chord was the second of a fantastic, six-album run by the Moody Blues that spanned from 1967 to 1971. The commercial success of 1967’s Days Of Future Passed paved the way for the band to enjoy unfettered creative freedom in the studio for Lost Chord. Inspired by Timothy Leary’s lysergic proselytizing and other cultural sources of mind expansion (including Sgt. Pepper’s), the Moodies added flutes, sitar, tablas, autoharp, harpsichord, and cellos to their standard rock instrumentation. And all five members got to flex their compositional muscles. The result is one of the zeniths of major-label psychedelia.

Drummer Graeme Edge’s brief “Departure” prepares you for something momentous, as an ever-rising chord leads spectacularly into the soaring romp of freedom that is Lodge’s “Ride My See Saw.” Although it was a bit late, the song exemplifies that liberating, Summer Of Love spirit and it definitively proved that the Moody Blues could rock. (No surprise that it was covered by NYC rockers Bongwater in 1987.) Flautist/saxophonist Ray Thomas’ “Dr. Livingstone, I Presume” brings whimsical orchestral pop that positively explodes with ebullience in the chorus (“We’re all looking for someone”). Thomas rises to the occasion again on “Legend Of A Mind,” a glorious tribute to notorious trip-trip-maker Tim Leary. This is superbly arranged big-budget psychedelia with absolutely riveting Mellotron and flute passages. A real tour de force, it’s the Moodies’ “A Day In The Life.”

Mellotron manipulator Mike Pinder comes correct with “The Best Way To Travel,” a brilliant specimen of late-’60s UK psych, which, historians agree, is some of the most elaborate and sublime psych. Plus, Pinder sings a bit like Ringo Starr. On Justin Hayward and Thomas’ “Visions Of Paradise,” a gorgeous, circuitous flute intro leads into Days Of Future Passed-style baroqueness, with sitar embellishments. Things get unbearably poignant on Hayward’s “The Actor,” a well-crafted psych ballad with heavenly ambitions. Edge’s cosmic poem, “The Word,” segues into Pinder’s sitar- and tabla-spiced psych gem “Om,” which is enhanced by transportive vocal harmonies. Sure, it’s a period piece, like In Search Of The Lost Chord itself, but, man, what a period. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Jimi Hendrix Experience “Axis: Bold As Love” (Track Record, 1967)

Consensus #1 guitar god Jimi Hendrix was the Big Bang of Black psychedelia, and all of the three albums he cut with the Experience (who included Brits Noel Redding on bass and Mitch Mitchell on drums) are absolutely essential. Each record was uniquely brilliant in its own way. But after four decades or so of listening to them, I have to say that Axis edges out Are You Experienced and Electric Ladyland by a plectrum.

The Experience’s sophomore LP reveals Hendrix’s prodigious range as a songwriter and, of course, virtuosity as a guitarist. The jazzy skitter of “Up From Skies” abuts the tumultuous, hooky rock of “Spanish Castle Magic.” “Wait Until Tomorrow” shows Jimi’s underrated pop sensibility and intricate guitar-bass interplay with Redding, while the unspeakably pretty “Little Wing” and “Castles Made Of Sand” represent Hendrix’s most poignant ballads outside of “The Wind Cries Mary.” In a similar vein, “One Rainy Wish” is damn near a pinnacle of psychedelic soul.

“If Six Was Nine” is a masterclass in menace and sparse dynamics, with a devastating, upward-spiraling coda. “You Got Me Floatin’” boasts one of the most infectious grooves of ’60s rock. “Little Miss Lover” is as funky and rugged as anything on the If There’s Hell Below… comp; whenever I play it, I think it might be my favorite Hendrix tune of all time. The feedback symphony “EXP” displays Hendrix’s experimental inclinations. “Bold As Love” shatteringly climaxes the record and flaunts Jimi’s most powerful vocal performance. And though it’s easy to overlook, the swirling psych-pop of Redding’s “She’s So Fine” holds its own with Jimi’s compositions.

Axis‘ ability to blow minds hasn’t faded in 58 years. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Various Artists “If There’s Hell Below…” (Numero Group, 2023)

This crucial 13-track compilation partially derives from the limited-edition, long-oop 2002 collection Chains And Black Exhaust. Both albums feature the curation of thoroughbred record-collector Dante Carfagna, who tracked down rare singles by several amazing and unjustly obscure Black musicians to give them an afterlife on physical media and streaming services.

The main thrust of the songs on If There’s Hell Below... is a raw, tough-luck rock that nods to Curtis Mayfield (no relation) at his trippiest and most disenchanted. Stone Coal White’s stunned, wah-wah-heavy “You Know” exemplifies the muted, golden glow that pervades the comp, and Sir Stanley’s impassioned line in the profoundly soulful funk bomb “I Believe” (“I believe there’s got to be a better way”), sums up its prevailing attitude.

Elsewhere, Creations Unlimited’s “Chrystal [sic] Illusion” does blaxploitation-flick-soundtrack swagger with LSD, while Iron Force’s “Sweet Poison” melds stoned Hendrixian vocals with Black Sabbath-esque menace. Basement’s “Funky Music” is not the party jam its title would indicate, but a bleak, urban brooder. The standout track is Iron Knowledge’s “Show-Stopper,” a bulbous beast of action-packed psych-metal. It’s the greatest thing that’s ever come out of Youngstown, Ohio.

If There’s Hell Below… stands as one of the Numero Group label’s greatest comps of the ’20s—and there have been dozens, so that’s really saying something. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

Count Five “Psychotic Reaction” (Double Shot, 1966)

Talk about one-hit wonders… American garage rockers Count Five harnessed all of their creative and instrumental energies into “Psychotic Reaction,” one of the touchstones of garage rock, as Lenny Kaye astutely noted by placing the track on the vastly influential first Nuggets comp. (The legendary critic Lester Bangs fell hard for it, too, writing a fascinating 1971 essay that imagined all the subsequent albums that Count Five would never record.) Sure, “Psychotic Reaction” took cues from the Yardbirds’ “I’m A Man” and other rave-up-enhanced tunes by that British group, but Count Five took that steez to a crazier level. You might say that the song was their psychotic reaction to Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck, and company.

No question, Count Five captured lightning in a bottle with “Psychotic Reaction.” The emotional turmoil of young people heartbreak is/was/always will be a catalyst for extraordinary art, including speed-freak rock and roll. Here, the band locked in on some of the most primal, unstoppable guitar riffs and drumbeats ever, and then proceeded to rocket out to the farthest zones that 1966 had to offer, leaving behind the 13th Floor Elevators and perhaps even Love’s “7 And 7 Is.” But also take a moment to think about an America in which a track as gonzo as “Psychotic Reaction” could peak at #5 on the singles chart. How far we’ve fallen as a nation…

Let us note that Psychotic Reaction is more than just its cataclysmic title track. The LP opens with a potent 1-2 punch: “Double-Decker Bus”’s agitated, harmonica-augmented garage rock with a tense, hair-raising rave-up that’s not as explosive as “Psychotic Reaction” (what is?); and “Pretty Big Mouth,” a cool, sleazy, mid-tempo dancer about “making a woman mine”—a common topic among ’60s garage-rockers. In fact, that subject also arises in the next song, “The World,” which is in a similar musical vein to “Pretty Big Mouth,” but it has dorkier vocals. It’s important to remember that all of Count Five’s members were 18 and 19 when this album came out.

The first of two (!) Who covers here, this “My Generation” proves that it’s a fool’s errand to try to interpret one of ’60s rock’s foundational anthems. Sadly, Count Five just aren’t up to the task, but you gotta admire the balls on these guys… Simply put, Count Five—including main songwriter, guitarist, and vocalist Sean Byrne—don’t have the Who’s instrumental chops or vocal charisma (especially the latter) to approximate the original’s firepower. The other Who selection, “Out In The Street,” makes one ask “Why?” I mean, it’s a brave attempt at one of Townshend’s brash, youthful statements, but Count Five don’t really deviate from the original. Wasn’t there a non-Who song that these dudes could’ve covered?

Speaking of emulating British Invasion artists, Count Five delve into some 1964-era Beatles worship on “She’s Fine” and “Can’t Get Your Lovin’,” but—let’s not mince words—singer Kenn Elner kind of sounds like a doofus. Better is “Peace Of Mind,” which is the perfect counterpart to the Red Crayola‘s “Hurricane Fighter Plane.” It’s the album’s second-best song, a driving garage-psych beast that, of course, has been overshadowed by the title track. And DJs should be aware that the woozy, watery rock of “The Morning After” would segue well into Nilsson‘s “Coconut” or Three Dog Night’s “Mama Told Me (Not To Come).”

Look, I’m not going to sit here and tell you that Psychotic Reaction is a classic album. However, it does have enough interesting takes on primitive garage-rock moves to make it a keeper. And with a running time of under 26 minutes, the record efficiently delivers its rambunctious and boozy pleasures. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.

The Kinks “Sleepwalker” (Arista, 1977)

The Kinks’ debut for Arista in America, Sleepwalker marked the band’s pivot to arena-rock maneuvers after several concept albums full of horn sections and backing singers, which didn’t garner much commercial success. However, with Sleepwalker, Ray Davies and company got what they wanted, as it peaked at #21 on the Billboard albums chart. Recording in the band’s new 24-track studio, Konk, helped to expand the sound for more spacious venues. And in the process, the Kinks cut one of their strongest records of the ’70s, though it’s often overlooked by those who favor the group’s spectacular and influential ’60s output.

While I don’t consider Sleepwalker a top-5 Kinks LPs, it does possess one of this legendary group’s greatest songs: “Sleepwalker.” More on that later. The album opens with the loquacious “Life On The Road,” surging, melodically rich rock in the Mott The Hoople vein. “I’ve got bloodshot eyes because I’ve been walking the streets all night” Ray Davies sings, hinting at the insomnia motif running throughout the record while also expressing ambiguity about wanderlust. “Mr. Big Man,” a simmering ballad about a friend of Ray’s (possibly) who let power and wealth ruin him, explodes in righteous indignation, as Dave Davies gets off a flowery, powerful guitar solo.

“Brother” is a grand statement song about the importance of people watching out for one another—a celebration of altruistic impulses. The lush, swaying mid-’70s rock of substantial poignancy perfectly supports Ray’s message of hope. In a somewhat similar style, “Life Goes On” serves as an uplifting pep talk for overcoming adversity. Aptly, this tune could compete with your Springsteens and your Pettys for heart-on-sleeve, stadium-rock supremacy. The second-best track on Sleepwalker, “Juke Box Music” starts with a cool funk breakbeat from Mick Avory and quickly heads into some lean, good-time rock about the power of music to affect the way we feel. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy.. Eventually, the song blooms into an anthem that must have sounded fantastic during the Kinks’ late-’70s big-venue shows—especially Dave’s slashing lead guitar lines. Best of all, “Sleepwalker” opens with another funky break and shifts into swaggering rock beast mode, with cascading guitar riffs and incendiary interplay between Dave and Ray. Documenting the insomnia that Ray experienced after moving from London to New York City, “Sleepwalker” out-Slades Slade. As a single, it reached #48, the first Kinks chart placing in the US since 1970’s “Apeman.”

Side note: Sleepwalker would’ve been improved by the inclusion of the stinging “Prince Of The Punks,” a send-up of the UK punk scene roiling in 1976. (Instead, it was the B-side of the “Father Christmas” single.) Somebody at Arista messed up. Side note 2: BMG reissued Sleepwalker in 2024, but it’s not uncommon to find used vinyl copies for under $15. -Buckley Mayfield

Located in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood, Jive Time is always looking to buy your unwanted records (provided they are in good condition) or offer credit for trade. We also buy record collections.