Psych and Prog

Yo La Tengo “New Wave Hot Dogs” (Coyote, 1987)

Goofy title and all, New Wave Hot Dogs was the beginning of a fantastic run of albums by New Jersey indie-rock stalwarts Yo La Tengo. That stretch from this one to President Yo La Tengo, Fakebook, May I Sing With Me, and Painful plowed a narrow but very rich seam of tough-and-tender rock that used the Velvet Underground’s fertile catalog as a template. Might as well borrow from the best, right?

Yo La Tengo—guitarist/vocalist Ira Kaplan, drummer/vocalist Georgia Hubley, and bassist Stephan Wichnewski (later James McNew)—seem to have inhaled the VU oeuvre as prepubescents, and New Wave Hot Dogs was the result. Nobody simulates the cooler side of the Velvets better than YLT—except for the Feelies. Of course, when you’re band includes a former rock critic (Kaplan wrote for NY Rocker) who sings like a higher-pitched Lou Reed acolyte, siphoning influences from the Velvets is expected. At least these superfans had the guts to wear their fandom on their sleeve by covering the deep cut “It’s Alright (The Way That You Live).”

But, to be fair, YLT generate their own distinctive ax heat; check out the rancorous rave-up “House Fall Down,” the PSF Records-esque speed-freak eruptions of “The Story Of Jazz,” the twisted noise jam “Let’s Compromise” (featuring guest guitarist from Bongwater, Dave Rick). Another guest, dB’s guitarist Chris Stamey, delivers a Bubble Puppy-esque solo on “Lewis.” Kaplan glazes his understated Velvetoons with feedback that stays just long enough to make its point. The too-brief “Lost in Bessemer” proves that YLT could forge a moving, intimate instrumental, too; it’s their “Embryonic Journey.”

Alternately manic and contemplative, New Wave Hot Dogs leaves a pleasant afterglow. It took YLT a while to shake their VU obsession, but they’ve gone on to hack their own niche in the indie-rock stratosphere. However, it’s odd that they’ve let New Wave Hot Dogs (and the equally wonderful President Yo La Tengo) languish in out-of-printland for over 35 years. Or maybe it’s some legal b.s. beyond the band’s control? Whatever the case, it’s problem that needs rectifying. -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.

Bongwater “Double Bummer” (Shimmy-Disc, 1988)

Following in the footsteps of the Mothers Of Invention, with whom they share a perverse sense of humor, Bongwater made their debut album a double. Led by actor/performance artist Ann Magnuson (see her in The Hunger, Making Mr. Right and other films) and former Butthole Surfers/Shockabilly bassist and renowned producer Kramer, Bongwater made a unique, albeit small splash in the indie-rock world with their sprawling debut. Their wry parodies, mutated glam rock, wide-eyed psychedelia, and inventive cover versions of famous rockers’ fluke hits and deep cuts made Bongwater a quirky cult band who deserve wider recognition.

The distinctive Kramer production stamp permeates all four sides and 27 songs of Double Bummer. The sound’s largely shrouded in a soupy fog; imagine Butthole Surfers on less potent drugs. A polluted stream of consciousness runs through this scrambled, rambling soundscape, as Magnuson sings and reads from her dream diary while Kramer laces tracks with vocal snippets from Richard Nixon, John F. Kennedy, ignorant right-wingers, argumentative people on the street, etc. In this cacophonous collage, everything is fragmented, skittish, askew, out of focus. The prevalent mode is truly fugged hallucinogenic rock—a kind of slo-mo psychedelia swelling with muted grandeur and subaquatic guitar scrawl by Dave Rick.

Kramer’s unpredictable flights of lunacy and lucidity bring us inspired versions of Gary Glitter Band’s “Rock & Roll Part 2,” Johnny Cash’s “There You Go,” the Monkees’ “You Just May Be The One,” the Beatles’ “Rain” and “Love You To,” Soft Machine’s “We Did It Again,” and a Chinese translation of Led Zeppelin’s “Dazed And Confused.” The latter will make you laugh until you fly.

Bongwater’s catalog is long out of print and even the career-spanning, four-CD box set came out in 1998 isn’t easy to obtain. It’s about time somebody—maybe even Kramer’s own Shimmy-Disc label—reissued their four cool albums and the 1987 EP, Breaking No New Ground!, that kicked it all off. -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.

Straitjacket Fits “Hail” (Flying Nun, 1988)

On their classic debut album, New Zealand quartet Straitjacket Fits blended the Chills’ achingly beautiful melodic sensibilities with Sonic Youth’s soaring drone science. The result was a distinctive hybrid that doesn’t owe too much to either band. In the esteemed Flying Nun tradition, guitarists/vocalists Shayne Carter and Andrew Brough (who passed away in 2020) write exquisitely crafted songs that stick in your mind forever—well, that at least holds true for me, so far.

Straitjacket Fits’ best songs pierce the soul with the bittersweetness of the human condition. Carter’s tear-streaked voice casually floats over the glorious din, verging on melodrama, but always avoiding it. Carter and Brough wrote like sensitive poets, but never made you cringe. Some choice lines: “Your words feel homesick/Watch them flounder in mid air”; “Your skin crawls to escape my hand”; “Her speeding, her freedom’s what’s appealing to me/To stop her in her tracks/Match an act with flat tactics of attack.”

Some of these songs are so breathtaking (especially “Hail,” “She Speeds,” “Dead Heat,” and “Fabulous Things”), I am tempted to base religions on them. “Sparkle That Shines” (which appeared on the UK and US versions, but not on the original NZ release) and “Fabulous Things” are Brough tunes that capture his magically delicate touch; his melodies are paradoxically fragile, yet built to last for eternity. He would go on to pen even greater songs on 1990’s Melt such as “Down In Splendour” and “Such A Daze.” I do wish the Fits had given Brough more real estate on their records… or perhaps he just wasn’t that prolific. Whatever the case, more of Brough’s genius tunesmithery would’ve been nice.

When I listen to Hail, I feel a holy quiver—except when the sugary, unnecessary cover of Leonard Cohen’s “So Long, Marianne” is playing—and I am convinced that Shayne Carter and Andrew Brough were two of the greatest songwriters in rock history. Yet they’re not even in the conversation when that topic arises. And that’s just not right. -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.

Throwing Muses “Throwing Muses” (4AD, 1986)

This stunning debut LP by Boston quartet Throwing Muses is as enduring as Love’s Forever Changes, as mysterious as Wire’s 154, and as otherworldly as Clock DVA’s Thirst. That it’s the product of three Rhode Island-based women and a dude who were all around 20 years old at the time of its creation makes it all the more impressive.

Throwing Muses contains the paradoxical elements found in many classic albums: gorgeous complexity, serene tension, sinister innocence, and erotic intelligence. Singer-songwriter Kristin Hersh’s voice spasms, flutters, an soars as if she were a female Tim Buckley; her words follow a logic known only to herself (or perhaps not) and sound like an alien poetry that conjures the subconscious’ scarred effluvia. Pretentious? Hell yes. But pretentiousness isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and it’s certainly an asset with this band.

On this record, Throwing Muses—who also consisted of guitarist/vocalist Tanya Donelly, drummer David Narcizo, and bassist Leslie Langston—were twisting rock intro unique shapes, creating new standards of beauty, and damn near reinventing the concept of the song. You can listen to this album hundreds of times and learn something new about it each time. It’s proof that obscurity is a virtue.

The crazy thing? Throwing Muses is scarce in the wild and online, and even CD versions of it are pricey. Hell, it’s not even on $pot1fy. We really could use a reissue of it on all formats. -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 Feelies “Only Life” (A&M, 1988)

The Feelies’ major-label debut found them with a slightly more in-your-face production, and, against conventional wisdom, they actually benefitted from it. Their previous album, 1986’s The Good Earth, though beautiful, sounds like it was recorded with moss-covered mics (R.E.M.’s Peter Buck co-produced).

Only Life, the New Jersey rock group’s third album, is a veritable guitar feast. Glenn Mercer and Bill Million deftly twine their electric and acoustic riffs around primal, mantric rock structures. These musicians don’t invent new guitar lexicons; rather, they create subtle dialects on the Velvet Underground’s ur language, which they “speak” as fluently as any band in the USA.

To be blunt, the Feelies display just two kinds of songs on Only Life: the pastoral, meditative chime, à la “Sweet Jane” (side one) and the accelerating chug à la “Foggy Notion” (side two), with occasional forays into whammy-barred spaciness. But within any given song there’s an omnipresent tension between those two styles. Only Life actually thrives on its sameness. As with the Wedding Present, the Feelies sound better as the tempo of their music increases. And they ingeniously sequenced Only Life so that each song gets subtly and progressively faster. Also worth noting: the high-velocity jangle train that is “Away” would segue well into Meat Puppets’ “Away” from Up On The Sun. Pure coincidence or…?

The Feelies’ music always has been devoid of raunch, even on their most manic LP, 1980’s Crazy Rhythms. There’s something monkish about their devotion to rock the VU way. They found what they do best and honed it to perfection on Only Life. Mercer’s affectless, Lou Reed-like voice heightens the sense of sexlessness on these 10 songs. It’s a comforting voice, a kindly whisper or humble exhortation imparting vague, clipped phrases such as “Got a ways to go/So much to know.” Paradoxically, his unexpressive voice profoundly moves you.

In a decision that’s very on-the-nose, the Feelies cover “What Goes On” (one of my favorite songs ever) with blinding speed, but unfortunately add little to the Velvets’ original. Well, who could, really? But it made Lou richer, and that’s what really counts.

Ultimately, the music on Only Life is a romp through the grassy hills of childhood and an urgent shuffle through the subway stations of adulthood. It stands as one of the greatest rock records of the ’80s. (Bar/None did the last vinyl reissue of Only Life in 2016. It’s time for another 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.

Scientists “Blood Red River” (Au Go Go, 1983)

Considered by some to be harbingers of grunge and by others as goth, Scientists always struck me more as Australia’s Stooges. Now, that remote country has fostered many bands with Iggy & company’s DNA, but nobody outside of Birthday Party captured the Stooges’ menacing, seething quality with as much pizzazz as Scientists.

Led by vocalist/guitarist Kim Salmon, Scientists released a self-titled debut album in 1981 whose bubbly power-pop/punk songs didn’t hint at the brooding heaviness that animates their 1983 mini-album, Blood Red River. To these ears, they sounded like lightweight also-rans on that first LP. In retrospect, it makes sense that soon after The Scientists was released, two members left to join the Hoodoo Gurus. Bringing in drummer Brett Rixon, bassist Boris Sujdovic, and guitarist Tony Thewlis had a salubrious effect, as Scientists transformed into a very different and much ornerier beast.

“When Fate Deals Its Mortal Blow” stands as one of the greatest openings to a record ever. Salmon sneers a revenge tale like Lux Interior’s meaner, Down Under Döppleganger while the guitars squeeze out radiated sparks and the rhythm section metronomically marches down a muddy trench with grim certitude. Swagger overload right out of the gate! “Burnout” motors down the garbage-strewn alley with a brutal grunt of a bass line, staccato, pugilistic beats, and guitars like zipping wasps. The song eventually accelerates into a thuggish yet disciplined freakout.

“The Spin” starts exactly like Birthday Party’s sinister blues-rock churn “King Ink,” making it one of the least-surprising moments on Blood Red River. Following in BP singer Nick Cave’s footsteps, Salmon gets off a pitch-perfect, feral Iggy howl. “Rev Head” foreshadows British heavy psychonauts Loop, with some maniacal, Suicide-like repetition (hence the Martin Rev-referencing title) and Alan Vega-esque shouts thrown in for good measure.

One of the coolest songs of the ’80s, “Set It On Fire” forces your mouth agape with jaw-harp-enhanced Stooge-adelia, powered by a thrusting, lascivious bass line, plus well-timed, Jimi Hendrix-meets-Andy Gill guitar explosions. The title track ends the record with sparse, menacing blues rock that, if you saw it stalking toward you, you’d cross the street to avoid it.

Scientists would get trashier and thrashier on 1986’s Weird Love, but for my money, they decisively peaked on the short yet potent Blood Red River. (In 2015, Numero Group reissued Blood Red River. That’s probably the easiest and most cost-effective way to obtain 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.

Karuna Khyal “Alomoni 1985” (Voice, 1974)

The Nurse With Wound List—which appeared in the UK avant-garde group’s 1979 debut album—opened many minds to a lot of amazing, weird music. Of the nearly 300 artists whom NWW acknowledged as influences on their music, Japan’s Karuna Khyal (and its brother band, Brast Burn) remain perhaps the most mysterious.

But you know what? The dearth of information regarding these phenomenal bands only enhances the listening experience. These bizarre aural documents—Karuna Khyal’s Alomoni 1985 and Brast Burn’s Debon—seemingly manifested magically. Their creator, one Takahashi Yoshihiro, apparently had no interest in claiming ownership or reaping whatever rewards would come from these bafflingly unique masterpieces. And that’s beautiful.

Consisting of two sidelong tracks that total 48 minutes of mind-boggling music, Alomoni 1985 sounds as if it were improvised under the influence of potent hallucinogens… in a remote cave. One may hear a slight connection to fellow Japanese psychonauts Taj-Mahal Travellers, but Karuna Khyal are a much stranger proposition. Like the Travellers, KK occasionally veer into eerie-drone territory, but more often they’re twisting rock and experimental music into unprecedented shapes.

Alomoni 1985 begins with a lurching beat and a wonderfully warped string instrument snarling a mutant blues riff, as the singer chants as if spellbound. A harmonica mirrors that fantastic riff while the heavy, burdened beat continues to trudge. An abrupt transition into a sinister chug follows, almost Chrome-like in its machine-mantra motion, but more organic than those Bay Area industrial-psych madmen ever sounded. Things get very intense and abrasive, and I can imagine a lot of listeners bowing out here.

There’s a stretch in the first track that comes off like Captain Beefheart & The Magic Band covering Can‘s “Yoo Doo Right” while being sucked into a vortex—and this is the album’s most accessible passage! The singer definitely has that gravelly Don Van Vliet timbre, but his language will be indecipherable to most Western ears. (“Kwannik kwannik kwannick TOOLAAAHHH,” eh? Can I get an “amen”?) Some studio black magic eventually turns the voice into nightmarish hall-of-mirrors murmur. It’s too much, man.

The second track starts with some of diabolically scary wind noises, insistent kick drums, and more enigmatic muttering and bellowing. What the hell is happening? I’m not sure, but the oddly angled, chunky proto-techno action foreshadows American weirdos Black Dice by about 30 years. The track gradually morphs into a disturbing marching-band/arcane-ritual procession that takes the Mothers Of Invention’s “Return Of The Son Of Monster Magnet” to the next dimension. Karuna Khyal—whoever they were—proved themselves to be operating on a whole other level of genius.

What few original copies of Alomoni 1985 exist on the second-hand market go for hundreds of dollars. Your best chance of obtaining the vinyl for a reasonable price is Phoenix Records’ unofficial 2012 reissue (which Discogs has banned). Or you could search for Paradigm Discs’ 1998 CD. Finally, if desperate to hear the album, you can stream it. But wear good headphones for optimal brain-bonking. -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.

Bob Seger System “Noah” (Capitol, 1969)

The follow-up to Bob Seger System’s classic 1968 debut LP, Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man, Noah is yet another early Seger album that its creator would rather you forget. You won’t find Noah on streaming services nor on CD, and vinyl copies are scarce in the wild. Like Kraftwerk, Bob is not the best judge of his music’s worth. So it is up to his fans and critics to save their scorned, great work from oblivion.

One likely reason Seger has banished Noah to the memory hole is that six of the album’s 10 songs don’t even bear his writing. Guitarist/vocalist Tom Neme basically became the co-leader of the System, and that understandably didn’t sit well with Robert.

Neme’s quality control veered wildly on Noah, but when he was good, he was really good. Take “Lonely Man,” for example. A soulful ballad with deceptive funk in its trunk, the song sounds like the blueprint for Ethan Miller’s Howlin Rain band. This tune really wrings you dry. Funny how one of the greatest Seger songs wasn’t even written by Bob, although he sings his damn ass off for Mr. Neme. Another Neme highlight is “Jumpin’ Humpin’ Hip Hypocrite,” on which he sings in an action-packed, tom-tom-heavy rocker that jams out into bruising psychedelic realms.

But Neme’s “Follow The Children” enters jaunty sunshine-pop song territory, which is not at all Seger’s forte. The vague, feel-good refrain “the reason for living is just to be free” is a beautiful thought, although “freedom” is variable and subjective, right? Similarly, the title track is an uncharacteristically cheerful pop song augmented by Bob Schultz’s sax that departs from that rugged BSS garage-rock template true heads love. Heck, they even let bassist Dan Honaker sing one song (the undistinguished “Lennie Johnson”).

Seger returns to his strengths with “Innervenus Eyes,” one of the toughest garage-rockers in the BSS canon, with intensely whorling and stabbing organ parts, Can-like bass pulsations, and our Bob singing like a man trying to shake off demons. “Death Row”—a classic garage-rock brooder left over from the Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man sessions and originally released as the B-side to “2 + 2 = ?”—closes Noah on a dark, bright note.

But the real shocker here is “Cat,” the most OUT song in Seger’s catalog: he channels Can’s Malcolm Mooney on this crazed duel with Pep Perrine’s drums, cowbell, and maracas. Sure, this strange anomaly has always alienated the folks who swarm to Bob’s post-Beautiful Loser amphitheater shows (assuming they even heard it), but fug those normies. “Cat” is the feral stuff that Seger quickly abandoned, but I’d rather hear this six-minute primal workout on repeat than listen to 10 seconds of “Old Time Rock & Roll.”

Maybe after Seger passes, Jack White or another superfan will get Noah reissued. Until then, prepare to shell out big bucks for this erratic nugget. -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 Ventures “Underground Fire” (Liberty, 1969)

There’s no way most mortals have heard all of the Ventures‘ 250-plus albums. Nor, it is fairly certain, are all of the Ventures’ album worth hearing. Even the band members would admit that many of them were hastily pumped out to capitalize on trends. The Ventures were blessed—or cursed—with the ability to play nearly every style of music with verve and ingenuity. And they and/or their labels seemingly possessed an urgent need for money. So, the Ventures’ discography from their ’60s/’70s peak looks like a precursor to Guided By Voices’, for sheer prolificness.

Now, with regard to this surf-rock institution founded in Tacoma, Washington, I’m a shameful dabbler. But of the tiny fraction of LPs by them that I’ve heard, Underground Fire stands out. As most mortals know, Ventures’ albums consist mostly of covers of popular tunes from whatever period they were released. And they often have a marketable theme—or gimmick, if you want to be less charitable.

By contrast, Underground Fire can pretty much stand alone as a creative milestone for the Ventures. Side one’s all originals; side two’s all covers of some heavy, late-’60s hits that you know and probably love. But the group prove they’re much more than master replicators of popular idioms; these cats can also write some memorable instrumentals, when they set their minds to it.

The title track kicks off the album like the Yardbirds exorcising some blues-rock demons. New lead guitarist Gerry McGee apparently thought that surf rock had runs its course, and the rest of the band acquiesced with his more scathing vision. “Embers In E Minor” is cool, driving rock that has the air of hip British library music of the time. Were the Ventures secret KPM Records fans? One hopes so. Possibly the funkiest song in the Ventures’ discography, “Sea Of Grass” finds bassist Bob Bogle and drummer Mel Taylor really upping their game here. This may be blasphemous hyperbole, but I’d put “Sea Of Grass” in a DJ set with the hardest-grooving cuts by Booker T. & The M.G.s and the Meters.

In “Higher Than Thou,” Bogle’s bass line is a monster of minimalist propulsion while McGee’s guitar leads are greasy blues-rock lightning. It’s a serious party jam that may help you reach its titular state. With its on-the-nose title, “Country Funk And The Canned Head” is, you guessed it, a Canned Heat homage, as well as proto-ZZ Top boogie. (By the way, Mel Taylor was Canned Heat bassist Larry’s brother.)

Underground Fire‘s cover songs are as familiar to most seasoned listeners as the fingers on their record-flipping hand. On “Born To Be Wild,” the Ventures lean in to this Steppenwolf biker-rock staple like their paychecks depended on it. No vocals necessary when you have such slashing guitar interplay and an urgently punchy rhythm section. As for “Sunshine Of Your Love,” folks of a certain age don’t really need to hear this Cream classic in 2024. But if we must, the Ventures’ vicious, funked-up version is the way to go.

There’s also a respectful rendition of “The Weight,” but we only need the Band’s, to be brutally honest. The Ventures’ “Light My Fire” stands as a great contribution to the canon, if you dislike Jim Morrison’s vocal presence. And, if I may conjecture, John Durrill’s rococo keyboard excursions probably impressed Ray Manzarek. The same concept applies to “Down On Me,” except if Janis Joplin’s voice somehow gets on your nerves. McGee tears off fluid, searing leads—just a commanding performance. The Crazy World Of Arthur Brown nugget “Fire” blazes brightly and maintains the album’s theme with panache.

Underground Fire hasn’t been reissued on vinyl in the US in 55 years. Regardless, you should be able to find copies fairly easily and cheaply. I scored mine a few years ago in an Oak Park, Michigan shop for $2.99. -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.

Eddy Senay “Hot Thang” (Sussex, 1972)

As a guitarist from Detroit coming up in the ’60s and ’70s, Eddy Senay had to deal with some tough competition. Funkadelic’s Eddie Hazel, the Funk Brothers’ Dennis Coffey, the MC5’s Fred “Sonic” Smith and Wayne Kramer, etc. But Senay held his own among these heavy Motor City axe-slingers on his two lone albums for Sussex, Step By Step and Hot Thang (both released in 1972). He wasn’t as incendiary a player as the aforementioned musicians, but Senay ruled as a purveyor of mellow finesse, a virtuoso of blissful licks.

Hot Thang bears similarities with Mel Brown’s Chicken Fat (reviewed on this blog earlier this year). Both records eschew vocals (let us give thanks) and possess a sinuous, sinewy approach to bluesy funk. Sometimes the best way to start an album is to ease your way into it. Fig. 1 is “Just Feeling It,” a laid-back psych-blues charmer that would make Khruangbin flip their wigs. “Down Home” bears Steve Cropper/Booker T. & The M.G.s vibes. Country funk of the highest order, the song rewardingly chews the aforementioned Chicken Fat.

Written by Donny Hathaway and Richard Evans, “Zambezi” remains one of the coolest funk cuts ever, with Senay operating at his flashiest and most dexterous, working in perfect tandem with the uncredited, flamboyant organist. It’s the album’s peak and my go-to cut from it for DJ sets. Almost as great are “Jubo” and “Reverend Lowdown.” The former’s hard-hitting, elastic funk screaming to get on a blaxploitation-film soundtrack; the latter’s stripped-down, James Brown-ian funk with tambourine-augmented beats. Scorchers, both.

Senay’s such an ingenious musician, he can make even an over-covered hit such as Bill Withers’ “Ain’t No Sunshine” sound necessary. He does it with requisite solemnity, but also a peppier tempo and funkier rhythm. It’s one of the best versions of this song, which, given how many there are, is serious praise.

Modern Harmonic reissued Hot Thang on vinyl and CD in 2017. Get it on all formats -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.

Traffic Sound “Virgin” (MaG, 1970)

I first encountered Traffic Sound in the ’80s, at a time when very few records by Peruvian rock bands infiltrated North American stores. We had access to many Brazilian releases back then, but Peru? Our ignorant, pre-internet asses didn’t even know that that South American country harbored a rock scene. But Traffic Sound were the real deal, and they broke through to receptive heads, becoming many listeners’ introduction to Peru’s rich rock landscape.

Traffic Sound only released four albums, but their second one, Virgin (following a covers-heavy debut indebted to artists such as Hendrix, Cream, and Animals), is both their most popular LP and their creative peak. The band consisted of Jean-Pierre Magnet (sax), Willy Barclay (lead guitar), Manuel Sanguinetti (vocals), Lucho Nevares (drums), Willy Thorne (bass), and Freddy Rizo Patrón (rhythm guitar). Their chemistry was magical.

The acoustic-guitar-fueled title track kicks off the album with widescreen, heroic rock marked by Sanguinetti’s passionate vocals, sung in English—another factor that helped Traffic Sound make inroads into the Anglo-American market. “Tell The World I’m Alive” channels the quasi-maudlin vibe of some of Aphrodite’s Child’s ultra-sincere ballads.

Virgin really takes off, though, with “Yellow Sea Days (March 7th; March 8th; March 9th),” a three-part suite that’s one of Traffic Sound’s towering achievements. It starts in laid-back loping mode, blissed out to the max with spangling acoustic guitar, burbling hand percussion, and distant golden sax mellowness. The second section coils into a predatory groove laced with a fried, descending electric-guitar riff that would make Jeff Beck accidentally swallow his plectrum. The third part gently ascends into a psychedelic reverie as heavenly as anything by Relatively Clean Rivers or Friendsound. In a different but no less sublime vein, “Jews Caboose” is a slice of fuzzed-out, funky, Latin psych-rock that’s heavier than anything Santana and their ilk did. Pure heat.

Virgin peaks with “Meshkalina,” which is by far the most streamed track from this album on $p0t1fy. This song warns about the sinister powers of mescaline, which may make you all the more want to partake. The “yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah YEAH YEAH” refrain permanently scars your brain—but in a good way. Sanguinetti sings, “We were having fun, even though we were dying/Let me die, Meshkalina.” Yikes. As urgent and harrowing as a trip to the ER in a foreign country, “Meshkalina” ranks as one of the greatest drug songs ever. High praise, indeed. (Pun intended.) The aptly titled “Last Song” ends Virgin with a delicate, fluid acoustic-guitar instrumental—quite a contrast to the turbulent “Meshkalina.”

In 2024, the Spanish label Munster reissued Virgin with a photo-laden booklet that includes detailed liner notes. Act quickly. -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.

Screaming Trees “Even If And Especially When” (SST, 1987)

The peak album from Ellensburg, Washington’s finest, Even If And Especially When stands as one of the greatest psych-rock releases of the 1980s. And it holds up today; hell, I just played “Don’t Look Down” in a DJ gig a few days ago night, and it sounded great seguing out of Jimi Hendrix Experience’s “Little Miss Strange.” (Its 1988 follow-up, Invisible Lantern, was almost as sublime. The Trees were on fire in the ’80s.)

Produced by the great Steve Fisk and Screaming Trees, Even If abounds with indelible melodies played with nuanced attention to the details of 1960s psychedelic rock. True, there’s a sense of wheel reinvention here, but it’s done so exquisitely that it matters not. Early on in the Trees’ career, Mark Lanegan (who died in 2022 at age 57) mastered the melismatic singing style that signifies mental transport to other realms. And so many of his lyrics dealt with the perception of traveling to destinations unknown and/or unexpected, e.g., “Yeah, I’ve gone so many places/That I don’t know where I’m at” from “Cold Rain.” Confusion is sex, to quote Sonic Youth, another SST band.

Even If opens with “Transfiguration,” a boisterous mission statement of ’60s psychedelia that’s devoid of kitsch and replete with liberating fervor. The Trees are telling you straightaway to strap in, because we’re blasting off at full speed with no guard rails… and lids will be flipped. “Straight Out To Any Place” continues the torrid pace established on the previous song. Lanegan convincingly sells the opening verses: “I’m burning baby, catch on fire with me/There’s some ghosts in my head/And they’re chasing me through my dreams.” On “World Painted,” the Trees perfected that swirling-miasma-of-wonder mode, before “Don’t Look Down” puts pedal to the metal in a gush of drug-trip-recounting exhilaration (“I get the strangest feeling/Jump up, become the ceiling”).

If you want to hear magical reenactments of the grooviest ’60s psychsploitation cuts imaginable, check out “Girl Behind The Mask” and “You Know Where It’s At.” The midtempo psych saunter of “Cold Rain” boasts an incredible swagger, with Mark Pickerel’s beats possessing an oddly danceable hitch in their stride, while brothers Gary Lee and Van Conner slay on guitar and bass, respectively. It’s been my favorite song on Even If since the album came out 37 years ago. “In The Forest”—which recalls the most exciting aspects of groups such as the Litter and Count Five—is a fantastic climax to a record that revitalizes the hell out of psychedelia’s familiar tropes. This addictive album can withstand repeat listens, with no ill side effects.

Although I haven’t seen it myself, a vinyl reissue of Even If reportedly has surfaced this month from the notoriously frustrating SST label, whose owner, Greg Ginn, typically has been lax to keep its most desirable titles in print. So, affordable copies may be circulating. Good luck. -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.