Psych and Prog

The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band “Volume 3: A Child’s Guide To Good & Evil” (Reprise, 1968)

It’s somewhat baffling why the West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band never achieved the popularity of, say, fellow LA group Love. They looked cool, possessed a dazzling light show, had a rich benefactor, wrote phenomenal melodies, and created at least six songs that should’ve been hits. Maybe it’s because their name was too unwieldy and on the nose? Maybe because their oldest member, vocalist Bob Markley, was a creep whose lyrics sure seem to express pedophiliac thoughts? Well, actually, these were valid obstacles…

Anyway, as many of you know, WCPAEB released three amazing psych-rock albums from 1967-1968. (You can safely ignore 1969’s Where’s My Daddy?) After much research, I’ve concluded that Volume 3: A Child’s Guide To Good & Evil is their peak. The music is such a sumptuous swirl of gorgeosity that it overshadows whatever qualms one may have about WCPAEB’s problematic member, who passed away in 2003.

Lyrically, Volume 3 features a couple of anti-Vietnam War songs and a bunch of cringe-y paeans to young girls from a 30something songwriter. The best of the former is “A Child Of A Few Hours Is Burning To Death.” My go-to cut on Volume 3 for DJing, this disturbing track possesses a lethal, CCR-like groove, but it’s admittedly weird to shake it to a song with lines like “A child of a few hours/Is burning to death/Her eyes are full of smoke/Her mouth is full of fire
Napalm is perfect/For women and children.” (By the way, that’s Wrecking Crew god Hal Blaine on drums, fact fans.)

More typical for WCPAEB is “Our Drummer Always Plays In The Nude,” which is basically an unsettling personals ad masquerading as a quasi-goofy bubblegum-psych song. Ron Morgan gets off a bluesy, filigreed guitar solo that diminishes the “ew” factor. Better is “As The World Rises And Falls,” a mellow dose of dewy, sparkly psychedelia that I’d wager influenced ’80s California psych loners Opal.

Both “Ritual #1” and “Ritual #2” are highlights—and too damned short. The former’s fantastic sitar-laced psych-pop that’s a tease at 2:08. The latter’s one of the zeniths of American psych-rock. Starting with a rippling sitar intro of breathtaking beauty, it turns into a rather simple but effective slow-motion chug, albeit streaked with whistling and chuckling-goblin feedback. The chorus is prime tripping-hippie navel-gazing, and it’s sung with perfect stunned wonder. “You’ll make pretty beads/You’ll make pretty flowers/Let’s lay on the long, green grass and look at them/And at each other.” On “Until The Poorest People Have Money To Spend,” Morgan’s sitar, Shaun Harris’ grunting bass, and guitar akin to that on the Beatles’ Magical Mystery Tour power this flower-power anthem that anticipates early Primal Scream.

The hits just keep on coming. “Eighteen Is Over The Hill” is exquisitely beautiful psych-folk, as delicate and sublime as the best Left Banke material, while “In The Country”’s boisterous country rock might please fans of the Byrds’ Sweetheart Of The Rodeo, even with Harris’ muscular fuzz bass to the fore. And let’s not overlook “A Child’s Guide To Good And Evil,” a glorious slice of liquid psychedelia with sitar and ethereal chants. The album ends with “Anniversary Of World War III,” which is 96 seconds of silence. But the real finale is “As Kind As Summer,” a too-brief, brilliantly disorienting song that could—and probably did—fry Frank Zappa‘s mind.

So, yeah, WCPAEB will never get inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame (a blessing, tbh), but Volume 3 is a canonical blast of eccentric US psychedelia; despite the questionable lyrics. -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.

Love “False Start” (Blue Thumb, 1970)

As Jon Treneff said in a review of Four Sail on this blog in 2012, “Some would argue that Love lost much of the magic that initially drew listeners in after the career-defining Forever Changes – that Lee had nothing left to say and nowhere to go. An understandable stance, in light of his already significant achievements, but simply not true.” Accurate observation! Listeners who write off post-Forever Changes Love miss out on some amazing songs. The LA band’s sixth album, False Start, is a case in point.

With the original Love lineup long gone, main songwriter Arthur Lee ventured into harder rock territory, but without sacrificing his acute ear for memorable melodies and talent for emotive singing. He had total creative control and hired some heady jammers (lead guitarist Gary Rowles, bassist Frank Fayad, drummer George Suranovich, and rhythm guitarist Nooney Rickett) to back him in his quest to reinvent his b(r)and. For better or worse, the days of having his label (Elektra) enlist Wrecking Crew session musicians to help Lee realize his ambitious ideas were over.

Instead, Lee convinced Mr. Jimi Hendrix to sit in with Love, and the fruits of that collab surface on False Start‘s dazzling opener, “The Everlasting First.” Hendrix’s guitar flamboyantly corkscrews over one of Lee’s most poignant melodies and soulfully fried vocal performances, and one wishes we had more material from the godlike duo. “Flying” is not a cover of the Beatles’ wonderful near instrumental, but rather a piano-laced, maniacally cheerful ditty with Mott The Hoople vibes. “Flying’s a wonderful thing,” Lee sings with utmost sincerity, and only a fool would disagree. And in case you missed it, Love included a live version of “Stand Out,” a standout from the 1969 double album Out Here. It’s burly anthemic rock that could’ve appeared on the legendary Black Chains And Exhaust comp featuring obscure Black groups flexing wild psych-rock muscles.

About half of False Start consists of flinty blues rock that might fit nicely onto a Free or Electric Flag LP. The peak of this style appears on “Feel Daddy Feel Good.” An ode to a drug dealer, this is filthy, extravagant blues rock that sounds like a cross between Shuggie Otis and Led Zeppelin. “Ride That Vibration” offers a slight return to Forever Changes‘ featherlight psych pop and Lee’s more tender vocal delivery (until the freakout interlude), but slathered with Rowles’ guitar-hero theatrics.

Last but best, “Gimi A Little Break.” Surely most Love fans consider this a trifle, if indeed they’ve even heard it. But I’m a sucker for any singer who can extend the word “shine” into five syllables, as Lee does on this bubblegum-glam mood-elevator, with cowbell and Rowles’ scorching guitar solo enhancing things. It’s only 2:10, but “Gimi A Little Break” is one of the most enjoyable post-Forever Changes songs—as well as being the tune with which I’m most obsessed right now. I’ve been listening to it about six times a day this month, as if my sanity depends on it—because, in our current timeline, it does.

False Start hasn’t been reissued on vinyl in the US since 1970, which is a travesty. Come on, American labels—do the right thing and get this overlooked gem back into print. -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 Action “Brain (The Lost Recordings 1967/68)” (Dig The Fuzz, 1995)

The fantastic London group the Action seemed poised for stardom in the mid ’60s. They had the Fifth Beatle, George Martin, in their corner, producing five of their singles, which fused Motown soul with jittery mod moves. Unfortunately, none of those 45s hit. Shifting with the times in 1967, the Action cut some demos that reflected their mastery of psychedelia. Despite the outstanding quality of the 14 songs recorded in ’67 and ’68, they remained unreleased until the mid ’90s, whereupon critics justifiably flipped over their indelible melodies and emotional depth.

Reg King (vocals), Alan King (guitar, vocals—no relation), Martin Stone (lead guitar), Ian Whiteman (keyboards, flute, vocals), Michael Evans (bass, vocals), and Roger Powell (drums) were mainly influenced by the Byrds and John Coltrane (they covered the former’s “I See You” and the latter’s “India” early in their career), but ultimately subsumed those artists’ qualities into their own charismatic identity. In Reg King, the Action possessed a frontman with pipes almost as soulful as Steve Marriott’s; in fact, Small Faces‘ label, Immediate, briefly showed interest in the Action, but bafflingly passed on them. After all that hard luck, the Action changed direction again, becoming Mighty Baby and embracing a sprawling prog-psych approach. Today, Mighty Baby actually inspire more listener interest than the Action. I say you should make room on your shelves for both artists.

Anyway, let’s discuss how great Brain is; please note that it’s been reissued several times under the title Rolled Gold, with the last being in 2023 by Spanish label Guerssen. Even though these are demos, you can hear the Action’s glorious psychedelia flowering from the opener, “ Come Around,” whose courtly songsmithing bears the melodic splendor of fellow UK psych-pop wonders Kaleidoscope. “Icarus” is airy psych rock that foreshadows some early Yes melodic contours while the LP’s most jazz-oriented track, “Love Is All,” soars with Eastern-inflected, flute-powered verve, and with a very tough rhythm section. By contrast, “Things You Cannot See” is an utterly gorgeous ballad, up there with Nazz/Todd Rundgren‘s “Hello It’s Me” and the careening, anthemic rocker “Look At The View” is as great as anything the Creation did—just a roller-coaster ride of absolute joy. And seemingly for sheer giggles, the Action grind out Steppenwolf-esque biker sike on “Follow Me.”

The greatness really escalates with “Strange Roads,” one of the most sublime songs of the ’60s. Exquisite backing vocal harmonies, fried, rococo guitar riffs, Reg’s commanding vocal performance, and a bridge of radiant freakbeat swagger coalesce into a masterpiece. This song, to quote Judee Sill, is heart food. Even better somehow is “Brain,” simply one of the most heart-wrenching rock songs I’ve ever heard. Over a poignant wah-wah-guitar squawk and a deceptively complex rhythm, King sings with killing conviction, “Take your brain, it’s time to go/And you don’t have long you know/Remember me, remember me/’Cause I’m the one who made you see/Remember me.” The words don’t look that impressive on the screen, but King’s delivery sells them, and then some. Beginning with a guitar part that echoes that of “Dear Prudence,” “In My Dream” closes Brain/Rolled Gold with some exceptional, valedictorian psych—a tear-jerkingly beautiful ballad that arcs skyward like an eagle.

It’s long past time that the Action received acclaim matching that of Britain’s most important ’60s rock groups. Consider this review as a nudge toward that goal. -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 Politicians “The Politicians Featuring McKinley Jackson” (Hot Wax, 1972)

Based in Detroit, the Politicians’ members were the equivalent to Motown’s Funk Brothers, but for the Hot Wax and Invictus labels. Though the Politicians recorded only one album, it contained enough heat for three. Led by trombonist/composer/producer/arranger McKinley Jackson, the group included Melvin Griff (piano, saxophone), “Peanut” Roderick Chandler (bass, saxophone), Z. Slater (drums, percussion), and “Clay” Clarence Robinson (organ, trumpet). As a DJ, I’ve found The Politicians Featuring McKinley Jackson to be a treasure trove of brash and soulful funk. On the evidence of this sole release, Jackson deserves to be much better known.

The album kicks off with “Psycha-Soula-Funkadelic” which Jackson and Griffin wrote with the great Ruth Copeland (reviewed here earlier this month); it’s a peak-time scorcher that encompasses the styles in its title. “The World We Live In” is a stealthy psychedelic funk bomb that sashays at the “It’s Your Thing” tempo. A crazy, modulated whistling sound coursing through the whole song sounds like a Theremin (or Minnie Riperton) in the throes of ecstasy; it really sets this tune apart from nearly everything in the funk canon. The coolness keeps on coming with “Church,” whose nonchalant funk with clavinet and what sounds like a celesta has serious uplifting potential.

Our old buddies Holland-Dozier-Holland—long free from Motown’s strictures—make their greatness felt on “Free Your Mind,” which isn’t as heavy as Funkadelic nor as tight as the Meters, but it vibrates in a nice, laid-back vein that’s ideal for low-key summer hangs. A hit for fellow Detroit soul unit 100 Proof Aged In Soul, “Everything Good Is Bad” boasts a fantastically moving melody with unison soulful male/female vocals. Flute, strings, and Southern-friend guitar calligraphy also elevate this song, of which I never tire.

Things slow down and get a bit mushy on side 2, but it does have the LP’s peak, “Funky Toes.” Featuring one of the most distinctive clavinet riffs I’ve ever heard (and I’ve heard a lot), this cut is as filthy as anything that Funkadelic or Kool And The Gang were laying down in 1972. No wonder DJ Spooky sampled it for his ill trip-hop classic, “Galactic Funk.” “Close Your Big Mouth,” a Jackson-Slater cowrite, is the sort of poised, celebratory jam that’s a perfect send-off for this party platter.

UK label Demon reissued The Politicians Featuring McKinley Jackson on vinyl in 2019; the Japanese label Solid re-released it in 2018. It’s not an easy pull, but it’s well worth putting in the effort to score one. -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.

Sonny Bono “Inner Views” (ATCO, 1967)

Sonny Bono was best known as a writer and performer on five pop hits in the ’60s with his singing partner/wife Cher and as comic foil to her on their TV variety show from 1970 to 1977. For a while, Sonny & Cher were in competition with Nancy Sinatra & Lee Hazlewood for lady/guy music-group supremacy in the US charts. I’ve always preferred the latter duo, but S&C’s “The Beat Goes On” undoubtedly has amazing durability and there’ve been some fantastic covers of it (Telex‘s and Gábor Szabó’s come to mind). But as someone who watched The Sonny & Cher Comedy Hour as a lad, I’ve had trouble taking Mr. Bono seriously. And I’m probably not alone.

However, sometime in the last decade, Sonny’s only solo album proper, Inner Views, came to my attention. Some people I respect called it a psychedelic shocker. When I finally tracked down a copy for a reasonable price, I wasn’t blown away, but I was pleasantly surprised. Opening track “I Just Sit There” starts full tilt with a sitar-tinged hypnolovewheel of psychedelia, nearly 13 minutes of Bono rambling lysergically, like a less erudite, less poetic Bob Dylan, while sounding Dylan-esque on the mic. Also, I would bet your drug money that Brian Jonestown Massacre listened to this mantric song on repeat in the ’90s. (Side note: I wish I could tell you who plays what on this record, but info is scant.)

Comparatively speaking, the next two songs are a comedown. With its “Eleanor Rigby” melodic similarities, “I Told My Girl To Go Away” is a frilly, orchestral psych-adjacent ballad that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Hollies LP of the time, while the morose orchestral ballad “I Would Marry You Today” foreshadows some of Spiritualized’s tenderer moments. Then, in a weird twist, “My Best Friend’s Girl Is Out Of Sight” has the swift, uplifting buoyancy of a Northern soul floor-filler. Damn, Sonny—didn’t know you had it in ya.

Album-closer “Pammie’s On A Bummer” comes off like when a hitmaker and his session musicians take the brown acid and just wing it. On a blind listen, it could very well be some Midwestern basement-dwellers on a private press label getting far out—not a burgeoning celebrity with platinum records on his wall. But then the song turns into a lachrymose folk dirge, as Sonny laments—sounding like Sky Saxon’s little brother—about a female drug addict whose life has gone awry. This was Bono’s attempt at Serious Art™ (I think), but dude just didn’t have the gravitas to pull it off. Kudos for trying, though.

Inner Views has been of print on vinyl since 1967, and the last CD reissue happened in 2005. Nevertheless, you can find cheap copies on Discogs. That being said, it would be cool if Light In The Attic, Numero Group, or somebody like that did a proper re-release with liner notes and everything. -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.

Ruth Copeland “I Am What I Am” (Invictus, 1971)

A white Englishwoman with phenomenal pipes singing and writing songs while backed by early-’70s Funkadelic? And we get two excellent Rolling Stones covers, to boot? Gosh, you don’t have to twist my arm to get me to listen to Ruth Copeland’s I Am What I Am.

Copeland came to many folks’ attention by co-producing and writing two great, anomalous songs for Parliament’s first LP, Osmium. When she signed to Detroit’s Invictus Records, it was understood that label bosses (and stellar Motown songwriting team) Holland-Dozier-Holland would groom her to become the Caucasian Diana Ross. Obviously, things didn’t quite pan out that way, and Copeland ended up cutting only three solo albums in ’70s before fading into deep obscurity.

Backing up a bit, one of her songs on Osmium, “The Silent Boatman,” stands among the greatest ever written, a solemnly gorgeous, quasi-gospel tune about redemption in the afterlife, a tune that any sensible person would want played at their funeral. The composition also appeared on Copeland’s 1970 solo debut album, Self Portrait. There’s nothing quite as sublime as that classic on I Am What I Am, but Copeland’s sophomore LP—which she also produced; rare for a woman at that time—is stronger overall.

The album begins with a bang: “The Medal”—cowritten with Donald Charles Baldwin—toggles between starkly dramatic, piano-intensive balladry and a funky, acid-rock blowout. Copeland brandishes her exceptional vocal range, going from tender croon to Julie Driscoll-/Ann Wilson-like wailing while lamenting the Vietnam War’s toll on America’s young men. A freaky guitar solo by Hazel, Monette, or Bykowski is the LSD-laced cherry on top.

The first of three George Clinton collabs, “Cryin’ Has Made Me Stronger;” is a gospel-tinged, piano-heavy ballad about the torment of a busted-up relationship. It’s a real emotional wallow, with stacked backing vocals offering sweet consolation. George also contributes to “Hare Krishna,” a swaying, blues-gospel roof-raiser that sweeps up all in its path, atheists and agnostics included. Copeland persuasively sings, “What I’m trying to say is, we’re all the same,” no matter which religion we follow. Many would beg to differ, but it is a pretty thought. The final Clinton cowrite is “Don’t You Wish You Had (What You Had When You Had It?),” a filthy funk slow-burner with that trademark Clintonian lubriciousness. Ruth is in bravura form on the mic, rebuking a paramour who made poor decisions regarding their love. A scorching, rueful guitar solo by Hazel (I think) seals the deal.

Speaking of Eddie, he cowrote “Suburban Family Lament” with Copeland, and it’s I Am What I Am‘s funky apex. (The fantastic opening drum break has been sampled nine times, including by Madlib, Danger Mouse, and A Tribe Called Quest.) The track’s as gritty and groovy as anything on Hazel’s 1977 solo joint, Game, Dames And Guitar Thangs, and it could have easily fit on Maggot Brain or Free Your Mind.

The two Rolling Stones covers here are better than most. On “Play With Fire,” Copeland transforms one of the Stones’ most plaintive ballads into a showcase for her extraordinarily powerful voice. The group extends the song to over seven minutes of storm and stress dynamics, as Worrell or Case’s cyclical piano motifs ratchet up the tension. I gotta believe that Mick and Keith had to have dug these Funkadelicized extrapolations. Now, some might think it a fool’s errand to cover one of rock’s mightiest classics, “Gimme Shelter,” but Copeland and her assembled Funkadelic badasses are more than up for the task. She doesn’t quite reach Merry Clayton levels of distress in the original, but Copeland certainly captures the emotional turbulence at the song’s core about war’s many destructive effects. The band continues to pile up layers of guitars, bass, drums, and backing vocals until the last few minutes of this eight-minute epic topple into a glorious whirlpool of excess. Serious show-stopper energy here.

Copeland’s best album, I Am What I Am should’ve made her a star, but instead it’s become a cult classic, a real IKYKY funk/soul gem. It was last reissued on vinyl by UK label Demon in 2019, but even those have become scarce and pricey. Time for another re-release! -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.

Harumi “Harumi” (Verve Forecast, 1968)

Harumi Ando is part of that rarefied club of one-and-done artists: musicians who released one great LP and then peaced out for various reasons. My own pantheon would include Skip Spence, the United States Of America, McDonald & Giles, Friendsound, Spoils Of War, and Hermann Szobel. There are more, but we don’t have all day here.

What makes Harumi’s case even more interesting is that he seems to have vanished from everyone’s radar in the decades following the release of his 1968 self-titled debut album. Mystery pervades Harumi. How did an unproven Japanese solo musician hook up with accomplished—and uncredited—New York players in a studio helmed by Tom Wilson, producer of classics by the Velvet Underground, Mothers Of Invention, Nico, Simon & Garfunkel, and Bob Dylan? Why did Verve allow him to cut a double LP whose second disc consists of sidelong excursions with zero commercial potential? I mean, it was a risky move even when they did it with Frank Zappa & co. Could the reason really be down to Verve’s execs being high on hallucinogens and the notion that “this is what the kids want”? I would like to think so.

Harumi begins brilliantly with “Talk About It,” phased drums leading the way on a glorious sunshine-pop tune. There’s a warped guitar or keyboard sound surging in the background that pushes this into mindfucksville. And right away, Harumi establishes his solid grasp of English and dramatically vulnerable voice, which is not technically “good,” but is effective in the context of his beautifully ramshackle psych-pop songs. “First Impressions” bursts into life with a horn-heavy fanfare, powering bubbly, Age Of Aquarius pop à la 5th Dimension. “Hello” is a tough little gem with a killer cyclical bass line and enigmatic organ swell. The slyly groovy “Sugar In Your Tea” is an introverted, naïve psych nugget in the Paul Parrish vein.

The soaring “Caravan” should’ve been a hit; I can imagine it seguing well into Tommy James & The Shondells’ “Crimson & Clover.” No wonder it was covered with astonishing panache by Rotary Connection. The towering, wide-screen orch pop of “Hunters Of Heaven” will sweep you off your goddamn feet. Again, the bass line snakes its way into your consciousness, leaving you dying to know who’s playing it. (I wouldn’t be surprised if it were Carol Kaye or Chuck Berghofer.) Oddly, “Hurry Up Now” sounds as if it could be a B-side of a single by an obscure Motown artist (compliment!). “Fire By The River” is the closest thing Harumi has to a dance-floor banger; it features the album’s most robust drums, chill vibes, incandescent organ, and biting guitar stabs. Harumi really belts it out on “Don’t Know What I’m Gonna Do,” but the square, melodramatic pop with strings and vibes is the LP’s nadir.

Harumi could’ve ended the album there and we’d have a nice little cult classic. But he went and added another slab of wax with the 24-minute “ Twice Told Tales Of The Pomegranate Forest” and the 18-minute “Samurai Memories.” This is how legends manifest. In the former, a deep-voiced thespian and Harumi trade observations, which most contemporary listeners will dismiss as faux-profound philosophizing or hippie hoo-ha. A procession of passages on glowing vibes, piquant shamisen strums, tabla, shakuhachi, congas, etc. serves as a bed for our narrators’ chatter. They discuss life, love, freedom, “the miracle of reality,” “the lost chord,” and “a mountain of ice cream.” Heavy, bros. “Samurai Memories” starts like a soundtrack for a swinging ’60s LSD party and gets progressively more complex and chaotic, then waxes and wanes in its own peculiar drug logic while Harumi or somebody else speaks in Japanese. These epics compound the WTF? factor of this enigmatic oddity. Harumi, if you see this review, please shed some light on your flawed masterpiece.

(The Austrian label Ebalunga!!! is reissuing Harumi on black and color vinyl on June 23. It ain’t cheap, but it’ll be less expensive than most copies on Discogs.) -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.

King Crimson “Red” (Island, 1974)

The final King Crimson album before they took an extended hiatus and transformed into a different beast altogether in 1981, Red is the British prog-rock pioneers’ heaviest LP and is considered by many smart people to be their peak. The band went into London’s Olympic Studio with a core lineup of guitarist Robert Fripp, bassist/vocalist John Wetton, and drummer Bill Bruford—talk about your ultimate badasses. Robert also called in some prog-rock studs to accentuate the five tracks on Red: saxophonists Mel Collins and Ian McDonald, violinist David Cross, cornetist Mark Charig, oboist Robin Miller, and others. Richard Palmer-James penned lyrics on a couple of songs. All concerned will enter Valhalla for their efforts.

The paradox of the phenomenal Red is, Fripp thought that King Crimson was an obsolete dinosaur; he was itching to do other musical projects, as releases with Brian Eno and guest appearances with David Bowie and Peter Gabriel, among other endeavors, proved. And yet, KC created a masterpiece that’s influenced a raft of rock groups in the ensuing decades. What wags call math-rock pretty much germinated in Red‘s brainy and brawny DNA.

The title track kicks off the LP with one of the most monumental, magisterial instrumentals in all of rock. It sounds like the song you play after winning World War III—wait, there will be no winners of that war. Anyway, you get what I mean… I hope. This music abounds with heroic motifs and empowering riffs of magmatic ebb and flow that render any words a vocalist may emit as superfluous. By contrast, “Fallen Angel” starts as a sweet, baroque art-rock ballad before accruing heft and angst in its second half. It’s a blessed respite before KC plunge into another paragon of infernal menace, “One More Red Nightmare.” This is rock that would make Satan himself soil his boxers. Bruford manifests some amazingly wonky percussion timbres from… sheet metal? Whatever the case, it sounds fantastic. The song also contains a couple of compelling saxophone solos, which few rock songs do.

Edited down to eight minutes from an improvisation at a 1974 Rhode Island gig, “Providence” is Red‘s outlier. It’s a gradually intensifying piece that builds to a glowering, suspenseful climax. Wetton’s bass is in particular monstrous form, while Fripp tears off the paint in the room with sculpted skree. Finally, “Starless” is a slice of grandiose, regal prog that harks back to KC’s 1969 debut, In The Court Of The Crimson King. It’s one of the most beautiful songs in rock history, yet it also possesses an exhilarating jazz-rock blow-out that would make John McLaughlin lose his Mahavishnu. The refrain of “Starless and… BIBLE BLACK!” always ricochets around my noggin for hours after I listen to it, with no complaints. Wetton’s vocals here really soar, making me forget about this time in Asia (the band, not the continent). “Starless” earns every second of its 12:24 run time. It’s a grandiloquent climax to an indestructible record. -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.

Truly “Fast Stories… From Kid Coma” (Capitol, 1995)

Being one of the best rock bands in Seattle in the ’90s wasn’t as lucrative for Truly as it was for some other Emerald City groups of the era. (How’s that for an understatement?) After a couple of promising EPs for Sub Pop, Truly jumped to a major label for their excellent 1995 debut LP, Fast Stories… From Kid Coma, just as grunge was fading from public consciousness and its potency was being watered down by non-Pacific Northwest epigones such as Stone Temple Pilots and Bush. Guitarist/vocalist Robert Roth, ex-Soundgarden bassist Hiro Yamamoto, and former Screaming Trees drummer Mark Pickerel deserved better, damn it.

A concept album about a comatose youth “reliving a past summer of grandeur,” the songs on Fast Stories have the uncanny aura of a dextromethorphan-induced dream. Like fellow Seattleites and contemporaries Love Battery, Truly showed an acute knack for heroic psych-rock guitar riffs and timbres and vocally, Roth’s feral snarl and melodious moan matched Kurt Cobain’s. Our dude Robert sings like he’s coming out of a nod with the realization that somone’s stolen his car on the exhilarating sludge rock of opener “Blue Flame Ford.” That leads into “Four Girls,” a convulsvie headbanger that alludes to Led Zeppelin’s “Four Sticks.” Yes, it deserves all of the double devil horns.

“If You Don’t Let It Die” is a huge, sweeping slab of space-dusted grunge that really transports you out of the quagmire of your mundane worries. If you want proof that Truly can do wistful power ballads better than Pearl Jam, check out “Hot Summer 1991,” with its melody redolent of nostalgia for a summer gone. Another highlight, “Virtually” is as majestic as Neil Young’s “Like A Hurricane” (is that a Mellotron adding profound poignancy in the background?), but with a gnarlier guitar attack and more stoned singing. “So Strange” is wonderfully ‘luuded out rock with Roth applying thick doses of flange on his languid riffs. Best of all may be “Leslie’s Coughing Up Blood.” As turbulent and cathartic as a vomiting fit, this rampaging rocker should’ve been a hit—or at least a cult fave on the magnitude of Mudhoney’s “Touch Me I’m Sick.” But, alas, no.

But there is some good news! Spain’s Bang! Records reissued Fast Stories in 2022 and Truly play the Seattle club Baba Yaga on March 6. Maybe they’ll have vinyl copies for sale there (Oops, the show’s sold out.) -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.

Roxy Music “Stranded” (Island, 1973)

Brian Eno’s favorite Roxy Music album, Stranded is the British prog-glam group’s first full-length without the wildcard synthesist. Perverse! But the great man has a point, even if I don’t totally agree with him; For Your Pleasure and Country Life vie for the top spot in my mind, altough the self-titled debut LP boasts the best three-song run on any Roxy record (“Re-make/Re-model,” “Ladytron,” “If There Is Something”). I hope to review Pleasure and Country Life at some point; we already tackled Roxy Music.

All that being said, Stranded features three of Roxy Music’s greatest songs—meaning that they’re among the greatest ever recorded: “Street Life,” “Amazona,” and “Mother Of Pearl.” This is also the first album on which Bryan Ferry didn’t write all of the songs; guitarist Phil Manzanera and saxophonist/oboist Andy Mackay contributed, too. In other news, violinist Eddie Jobson replaced Eno on synth duties, so while Roxy’s music lost some experimental unpredictability, it did gain a technically more adept player.

Let’s talk about those indisputable classics first. “Street Life”—which reached #9 on the British singles chart—rampages in the tradition of mercurial Roxy rockers such as “Do The Strand,” “Editions Of You,” and “Virginia Plain”; it’s a vivid encapsulation of the jittery excitement that hits when moving through a big city that’s bursting with possibilities. Many was the time that I’d play “Street Life” before heading out for a night on the town. Implanted in your brain, the song propels you through urbanscapes with extravagant confidence. Try it and see.

“Amazona” stands as one of Roxy’s towering peaks, benefiting from co-composer Manzanera’s prowess with Latin music modes. It’s also one of the group’s funkiest and sexiest songs, one I never tire of playing in DJ sets. Ferry’s expansive vocal range is on full display, shifting from ornery to über-romantic. Lushly layered, turbulent, and full of surprising dynamics, “Amazona” also stands out because of guest musician Johnny Gustafson’s squelchy bass line and its anomalous, quasi-reggae groove. “Mother Of Pearl” busts out of the gate with an exhilarating urgency, and then 80 seconds in it shifts into the suavest downtempo devotional, as Ferry sings poetically about his long, arduous search for the perfect woman. It’s one of the most dramatic change-ups in their catalog.

The album’s lesser songs have interesting elements, too. On “Just Like You,” Ferry falsettos over a pretty piano- and strings-heavy ballad, raising lilting melodiousness and yearning to high art. The eight-minute, gradually building gospel ballad “Psalm” seems like a sincere hymn to the righteousness of believing in Jesus. So if Ferry’s being facetious, then he’s a persuasive deceiver. Cowritten by Mackay, “A Song For Europe” possesses the momentous gravitas and sweeping drama of “While My Guitar Gently Sleeps.” “Serenade” is an understatedly ebullient tune and utterly elegant in that way Roxy Music could execute in their sleep. This talent was strictly a ’70s British thing. No American artist could pull this off—not even Sparks.

Stranded topped the UK albums chart and peaked at #186 on the US’s, which is as stark a portrait of the two regions’ aesthetic discrepancies as you’ll ever find. Sadly, we yanks sometimes were slow on the uptake. -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.

Frank Zappa “Apostrophe (‘)” (Discreet, 1974)

Cantankerous iconoclast Frank Zappa attained his commercial peak with Apostrophe (‘) , which landed at #10 in the albums chart and went Gold in 1976. It’s not hard to hear why. The first side was recorded during the sessions for 1973’s similarly catchy-song-oriented Over-Nite Sensation, while side two arose from various 1972 studio dates, except for “Excentrifugal Forz,” which dated back to the 1969 sessions that yielded Hot Rats, another beloved Zappa record.

The five songs that compose Apostrophe (‘)‘s side 1 form a suite of Zappa’s patented wise-guy, strained-humor rock, mixed with elements of prog, jazz, and doo-wop. In this vein, Frank’s voice tends to get on my nerves, but that’s always redeemed by his wonderfully wonky guitar solos and by Ruth Underwood’s amphetamined, twinkle-toes vibraphone runs. The spasmodic, madly accelerating prog rock of “Father O’Blivion” is probably the side’s highlight. But the laid-back boogie of “Cosmik Debris” boasts the most eloquent guitar solo. It helps that Zappa has a crack team behind him, including George Duke on keyboards, Don “Sugarcane” Harris and Jean-Luc Ponty on violin, Aynsley Dunbar on drums for “Uncle Remus” and “Stink-Foot,” Ruth Underwood on vibraphone and percussion, and Ian Underwood on sax.

Side 2 possesses the LP’s zenith, “Apostrophe’.” This track came out of a jam that featured the phenomenal session drummer Jim Gordon and Cream/Tony Williams Lifetime bassist Jack Bruce. Zappa said it was hard to play with Bruce because his style was “too busy. He doesn’t really want to play the bass in terms of root functions.” Whatever the case, the song’s one of Zappa’s greatest and funkiest creations and it’s blessedly vocal-free. It features Bruce unleashing one of rock’s most thickly fuzzed and deliciously serpentine bass lines, Gordon getting filthily funky on his kit, and Zappa soloing with insane dexterity. My eyes never fail to roll around their sockets like roulette balls when listening to this.

Besides this towering opus, “Excentrifugal Forz” launches into space courtesy of Duke’s sci-fi synth filigrees and Zappa’s scalding, Sonny Sharrock-like solo and the busy gospel rock of “Uncle Remus” (cowritten by Duke) is an anti-racism song in the tradition of Mothers Of Invention’s “Trouble Every Day.” The album ends with “Stink-Foot,” whose sleazy blues rock plagued by goofy lyrics is not exactly a lane in which I wish to spend much time. That being said, Zappa gets off a fantastic guitar solo that makes my synapses do the jerk.

All of which is to say, Apostrophe (‘) is probably the greatest album named after a punctuation mark. It’s hard not to feel possessive about it. If you need an entry point into Zappa’s dauntingly vast solo catalog, this might be the best one. -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.

Robyn Hitchcock “Black Snake Diamond Röle” (Armageddon, 1981)

The debut solo album by the great English eccentric musician Robyn Hitchcock sounds like an extension of his Soft Boys output. No surprise, as the personnel on Black Snake Diamond Röle features three Soft Boys: drummer Morris Windsor, bassist Matthew Seligman, and guitarist Kimberley Rew. This has always been my fave solo Hitch LP, because it’s his most psychedelic record while also containing some of his most indelible melodies.

The opener, “The Man Who Invented Himself,” is almost a red herring. It’s an absurdly jaunty rocker that ranks as one of Hitchcock’s most ingratiating songs, but it stands in stark contrast to Black Snake‘s prevailing darkness. An oblique tribute to Syd Barrett that was allegedly inspired by the Monty Python song “Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life,” “The Man Who Invented Himself” also recalls some of Paul McCartney and Nilsson‘s work and John Lennon‘s “Remember.” While it’s a crowd favorite, it’s the least interesting track here. Following that, “Brenda’s Iron Sledge” comes off like a paragon of sinister rock, spasming and slaloming swiftly in a minor key and boasting a killer earworm chorus. Continuing in the brooding, spazzy vein, “Do Policemen Sing?” vaguely recalls the Mother Of Invention’s “Who Are The Brain Police?” while also possessing the stalking quality of the coda from Television’s “Marquee Moon.” Rew’s guitar adds stingingly jangly texture to this gem.

My long-time favorite, “The Lizard,” is methodical, creepy psychedelia that oozes menace. Rew contributes aquatic guitar embellishments, while Seligman’s bass line triggers a resonant sense of doom. Shivers ensue. With Vibrators guitarist Knox adding adrenalized grit, “Meat” turns into an ideal specimen of energetic new wave. It should have been a hit—and I say that as a vegan. “Acid Bird” essentially sounds like an ’80s British “Eight Miles High,” with all the transcendent glory and brilliantly chiming guitar that that description implies. Another highlight is “I Watch The Cars,” which features Psychedelic Furs’ Vince Ely on drums. A staccato burner about witnessing automobiles zipping up and down the roads, the song’s a total gas, especially when Rew gets off his blazing guitar freakout.

The effusive, outward-bound rock of “Out Of The Picture” could’ve been another alternative-reality hit, with Knox again adding radiantly spangly guitar. Finally, with Mr. Thomas Dolby on keyboards, “Love” serves as the perfect valedictory closing song, a deeply tender and wistful tune with a great sense of space, enhanced by the massed backing “ah”s and lapping wave sounds.

(If you’re in Seattle on February 6, you can catch Robyn Hitchcock playing the Neptune Theatre. He shined brightly last time he came to town in 2023, and I suspect the man’s still got the goods.) -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.