Album Reviews

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.

Assagai “Assagai” (Vertigo, 1971)

If my research is accurate, Assagai were the lone majority Black group on the storied Vertigo label. (The great Marsha Hunt also released a single on the imprint.) Composed of South African and Nigerian musicians, with some backing help from British prog-folk greats Jade Warrior (apparently arranged by Vertigo, unbeknownst to the latter), Assagai only released two albums, but they’re very good specimens of the early-’70s Afro-rock movement.

Assagai’s self-titled debut album features Dudu Pukwana (alto sax), Charles Ononogbo (bass), Louis Moholo (drums), Fred Coker (guitar), Mongezi Feza (cornet), and Bizo Mnnggikana (tenor sax). Some of these cats went on to have long, distinguished careers in the jazz world. Jade Warrior went on to cut some fantastic prog opuses, which I hope to get around to reviewing here eventually.

Written by Jade Warrior, “Telephone Girl” first appeared on their own 1971 self-titled album. Assagai’s version starts with Moholo’s incredibly orotund funky break and then bursts to a higher level of vibrancy with lascivious sax riffs, Coker’s flamboyant wah-wah guitar, Ononogbo’s suave bass line, and warm, African-dude vocals about how well he’s going to treat the titular sex worker. Unbelievably, Assagai earned a slot on Top Of The Pops with this fantastic, raunchy song. This fistful of DJ dynamite is Assagai‘s peak, but other treasures appear. “Akasa” is simmering Afrobeat with mellifluously triumphant sax charts and an extended drum break that would make the late Tony Allen smile. Coker gets off a crispy, complex guitar solo that has a similar timbre to Howard Roberts’ on the Electric Prunes‘ “General Confessional”—a very good thing.

The stealthy “Cocoa” is a slinky psych-rock chiller while the rolling, humid, and chant-heavy Afrobeat cut “Irin Ajolawa” thrills with another elongated drum break. “Ayieo” provides breezy, swaying funk with South African jazz brass enhancements and the bustling, joyous jazz of “Beka” will make you want to jump like NBA Slam Dunk champ Mac McClung. The album’s low point comes on “Hey Jude,” which all groups were legally obligated to cover during the Nixon administration. (Go look it up.) It pains me to say that this is one of the worst Beatles interpretations I’ve heard—and I’ve heard a lot. Assagai turn the beloved power ballad into a saccharine highlife cringefest. That being said, they do a nice, albeit truncated, job with the transcendent, arm-waving coda.

In 2016, Prog Temple did the last legit reissue of Assagai, though a label called Cosmic Rock issued an unofficial one in 2022. Overall, it shouldn’t be too hard to track down a vinyl copy. -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 Electric Prunes “The Electric Prunes” (Reprise, 1967)

For many people, the Electric Prunes were their gateway into the wild worlds of garage and psych rock. Lenny Kaye’s Nuggets (Original Artyfacts From The First Psychedelic Era 1965-1968) comp featured the Prunes’ 1966 single “I Had Too Much To Dream (Last Night)” at side 1, track 1, which surely boosted the LA band’s profile. And rightfully so. The song begins low-key and full of intrigue—Ken Williams’ buzzing-bee guitar intro is iconic—and then bursts into one of the most thrilling hybrids of garage and psych ever, its wicked fuzz-tone guitars and sighing, faux-violin undulations perfectly supporting James Lowe’s vulnerable-to-urgent vocals.

The weird thing about the Electric Prunes is they had little creative control, but still sounded as if they were absolutely invested in the material, as if it came out of their very souls. According to liner notes writer Richie Unterberger, they expressed their frustration at only being able to place two original songs on their self-titled debut LP. Even more strange for an all-male group, most of the tunes on this LP were written by women composers, e.g., Annette Tucker, Nancie Mantz, and Jill Jones. (The first two wrote the classic title track.) Tucker and Jones penned the record’s second-most-famous cut, “Get Me To The World On Time,” one of the definitive monuments of garage-rock’s first—and best—wave. The tension/release dynamics here—replete with a Bo Diddley beat-boosted bridge and whistling-comet guitar—are *chef’s kiss*. “Try Me On For Size” is lascivious, alpha-male garage rock, written by those two cool chicks, Tucker and Jones. Paradox rocks!

Sometimes, though, having women songwriters just feels off for these guys. Tucker/Mantz’s “Are You Lovin’ Me More (But Enjoying It Less)” sounds like a girl group hit reluctantly played by dudes, which does bring a certain tension to proceedings. A straight love ballad earnestly sung by guitarist James “Weasel” Spagnola, “Onie” is limp and should’ve wound up on the cutting room floor. Similarly, “About A Quarter To Nine” is a spare, old-timey ballad co-written by Harry Warren, who was born in 1893. WTF?! Worst of all is “Tunerville Trolley,” the sort of zany, vaudeville-influenced bullshit that afflicted many ’60s rock albums.

It’s baffling why half of The Electric Prunes contains such fluff, when they had killer jams like “Train For Tomorrow” in their arsenal. A low-lit psychedelic chugger that’s the epitome of cööl, “Train For Tomorrow” is DJ gold and proves that the Prunes should have been given more leeway in the studio. “Luvin’,” written by Lowe and bassist Mark Tulin, is a psych-blues delicacy that gives Chocolate Watchband a run for their effects pedals. The Prunes were allowed a bit more freedom on their sophomore album, Underground, but they still had outside writers thrust upon them. Bummer.

The Electric Prunes possesses sky-scraping highs and embarrassing lows, which set the tone for the band’s vexatious career. They would encounter further obstacles later in the ’60s when producer Dave Hassinger brought in the phenomenal soul-jazz producer David Axelrod to take the group in a whole other, liturgical-psych direction, with minimal input from the Prunes. This group deserved better. -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.

Dug Dug’s “Smog” (RCA, 1973)

Dug Dugs are notorious for being the first Mexican group to sing in English and to cover the Beatles. The Fab Four’s knack for sweet melodies occasionally seeps into Dug Dugs’ sound throughout their catalog, but this mode—as nice as it is—is not their forte. No, Dug Dugs really shine when they’re scuzzing it up and conjuring thick clouds of distortion. When that happens, they stake their claim as one of the greatest Mexican rock bands ever. (A note about the band name: That apostrophe on the second “Dug” should not be there, as the moniker is a plural, and I’ve decided to delete it in this review.)

While the four albums that Dug Dugs recorded between 1971 and 1978 all have flashes of brilliance, their second LP, Smog, is the most consistently thrilling, the one that best showcases their passion and virtuosity. That becomes apparent from the opening title track. It’s a slab of intoxicating, staccato prog rock that rides the most scintillating flute motif this side of Kraftwerk’s first album. Beyond that, it ranks among the greatest songs about pollution, along with Joni Mitchell’s “Yellow Taxi,” Franco Battiato’s “Pollution,” Marvin Gaye’s “Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology),” and Neil Young’s “After The Gold Rush.” The album’s longest song, “Hagámoslo Ahora – 2da. Parte Popurrí” is groove-heavy psych rock that fills you with revolutionary fervor and/or a surplus of libidinal energy. The excitement doesn’t flag for its entire 11 minutes, 48 seconds.

Even better are “I Don’t Care (Yo No Sé)”—serpentine psych rock to which you cannot be apathetic—and “¿Cuál Es Tu Nombre?” yet more super-charged psych rock that sticks in the mind as firmly as anything by your favorite Anglo-American group of the era. The record closes strongly with “No Somos Malos,” a beautiful brute of flute-powered psychedelia that would make Jethro Tull blow out their aqualung, and the surprising anomaly “Voy Hacia El Cielo (Voy Hacia El Sol),” whose orchestral psych of rich textural and melodic beauty points to Dug Dugs’ Beatles influence.

The last US reissue of Smog occurred in 2011 via Lion Productions; Sony Music re-released it in Mexico in 2022. It would be nice if an American label would bring Smog back into circulation, as second-hand copies are fairly pricey. -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 Move “The Best Of The Move” (A&M, 1974)

I generally like to avoid reviewing best-of and greatest-hits comps on this blog, but The Best Of The Move is probably the most efficient and cost-effective way to hear this fantastic British rock group’s finest material. It’s not a traditional best-of collection, though, because it consists of the entire 1968 debut LP, Move, plus assorted singles from 1966-1970. This odd mishmash came about because those savvy A&M bosses Herb Alpert and Jerry Moss realized that Move and those killer 45s had not had US releases, so why not bundle them all together at a discount and make the Move stars in America? Alas, we Americans were too stoopit to embrace the Move, so instead they became a cult band mostly worshipped by Anglophiles. It’s an old, familiar story.

I’ll put my cards on the table now: At their best, the Move belong in any conversation regarding the most acclaimed ’60s British rock legends—the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Kinks, Who, Zombies, Donovan, Cream, the Creation, et al. This was apparent to anyone with functioning ears who heard the Move’s first wave of singles. Main songwriter Roy Wood was a mad genius, an absolute wizard with melody and a prodigious creator of hooks to die for. That he also looked diabolically smart and oozed charisma onstage made the Move’s dismal commercial outcome in the US even more puzzling.

The 13 songs on Move abound with clever tunes that are almost all instantaneously catchy. (The Coasters and Eddie Cochran covers don’t play to the Move’s strengths, however.) The Move’s best songs carry that special aroma of 1967/68 English psychedelia in which whimsy and baroque inclinations coalesce into numbers boasting an exquisite charm beyond the reach of 99% of American musicians. It’s hard to imagine a yank conceiving songs as arch and effervescent as “(Here We Go Round) The Lemon Tree,” “Walk Upon The Water,” “Fire Brigade,” and “Flowers In The Rain.” Our people just didn’t possess that dandified gene like the Brits did during the era when psych, garage, freakbeat, and art rock were intermingling.

As for the singles, lordy… They stand among the greatest ever penned. “Night Of Fear” exemplifies Wood’s ability to cram in many phenomenal earworms within one song. “I Can Hear The Grass Grow” is a stone classic of psychedelia that would segue well into the Beatles’ “Day Tripper.” “Wild Tiger Woman” packs maximalist pleasure while making overtures toward glam rock. If there’s a better song about being zonked in the noggin than “Disturbance,” please let me know. In it, Wood fuses power pop, Tin Pan Alley tunesmithing, and, in the scary coda, dark psychedelia that would spook Arthur Brown and his Crazy World. It’s such a tour de force.

The first Move song to feature Jeff Lynne, “Brontosaurus” might be their heaviest—and most turgid—composition. But everything pales before “Wave Your Flag And Stop The Train.” The pinnacle of Wood’s skill for infectious melodies that effloresce and swerve unlike anyone else’s, it’s one of my favorite songs in the world.

In conclusion, America really messed up by ignoring the Move. Don’t make that same mistake. -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.