Holger Czukay - 1979 - Movies

Quality: 3.75 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 4 out of 5

This Holger Czukay solo disc does share many attributes with contemporary Can. There is a strong focus on dance rhythms and not so much instrumental experimentation. But where latter day Can could never quite "let it all hang out" so to speak, Movies seems very comfortable in it's campiness. It also provides a fertile field for Czukay to go wild with his innovative sampling techniques. In fact, I'd say the trip-o-meter rating is exclusively based on the sampling as the music itself often straightforward (the long tracks get a little stranger).

Even more than Can, Movies is of a kin with David Byrne and Brian Eno's My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts. Both place samples over kind of funk/jazz like instrumentals. Byrne and Eno would use samples as the backbone of the song. Czukay doesn't sample to this extreme ("Cool In The Pool" has a distinct non-sampled vocal), but he did manage to do this first, although he rarely seems to get credit for it.

There are only four tracks present. "Cool In The Pool" sounds like a Steely Dan song with a Victorian-era cross dressed on vocal. It's really campy, but fun, and the sampling is really the main event. "Oh Lord, Give Us Some Money" is far more Can-like, featuring Can's signature descending riff. It's 12 minutes long and is far better than the "epics" can was recording at the time. Actually, there is a strong Can presence throughout this album as Leibezeit is playing drums at the top of his game throughout the album, and Karoli and Schmidt each appear on a track.

Side two follows a similar pattern with "Persian Love" once again giving us camp that you'll probably love or hate, and "Hollywood Symphony" outdoing Can's epic tracks of the same era. The latter tracks seems to incorporate a little bit of fusion into its sound, which is a nice touch.

Rather than Can's Saw Delight or Out Of Reach, I would recommend Czukay's Movies. It is after the same sort of sound as latter Can was, but tends to be much more successful, and gives a full view of Czukay's innovations in sampling. Besides, everyone from Can shows up here anyway.

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Holger Czukay - 1979 - Movies

Holger Czukay - 1969 - Canaxis

Quality: 4 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 5 out of 5

Although usually cited as a solo album, Canaxis is in fact a collaboration between Can bassist/sound manipulator Holger Czukay and producer/engineer Rolf Dammers. The album credit, is in fact listed as Technical Space Composer's Crew. Although recorded a short time after Can's inception, Canaxis shares little with that band's sound except maybe in their most experimental and freaked out moments.

This disc's foundation is a series of field recordings, mostly from Vietnam. Mistakingly playing some of these recordings together with a completely different music source, Czukay realized the possibilities of found sound manipulation, and began work on this album. This has absolutely nothing to to with rock at all and is more a realization of contemporary avant music theory. If you've got a taste for that sort of thing, you very well may enjoy this.

The album proper comprises of two album side pieces. "Boot Woman Song" rests heavily on samples of Vietnamese women singing. It's very interesting and Czukay weaves in some like instrumentation to flesh everything out. As a warning though, if you find the singing annoying, side one is not going to get better.

I do like side one, but side two's title track is the real gold for me. Starting off similarly to "Boot Woman Song," the tracks fades into some chanting which is like a more mellow version of the Ligeti tracks used in 2001:A Space Odyssey, finally ending with a wall of pure electronic sound. It's very dream-like music, although it does move extremely slowly, so you need to come in with you attention span.

The recent reissue contains two bonus tracks, "Cruise" and "Epilogue." These are relatively short tracks that continue the more electronic sounds of the album. I believe that these recordings are contemporary to the album's recording dates, although my reissue says 1997. It also credits Malcolm Mooney with liner notes that were clearly written by Mr. Czukay, so make what you will.

If Can is your all-time favorite band, you still might hate this. I personally find it to be quite enjoyable and managed to finish "Metroid: Fusion" while playing this one over and over. I can't play too many albums that many times over.

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Holger Czukay - 1969 - Canaxis

Can - 1976 - Flow Motion

Quality: 3.25 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 3.75 out of 5

Can made a very unfortunate slide into crappiness during the latter half of the 1970's. I picked up Flow Motion as it is supposed to be the best album from that period, but it's still not that great. I suppose I'd like it more if it came from some completely obscure krautrock group, but it's from the Can, dammit, and it should be better!

Anyway, for Holger Czukay's last voyage with the band as a full time bassist, Can decides to play around with dance and island rhythms. Honestly, if I want to hear some island rhythms, I'm probably not going to grab an album made by a bunch of Germans - just as I don't want to hear opera singers rap. Compared with the metronomic blast of Can's classic work, there's not much here to impress. I know bands need to move on and try new things, but they should hopefully do it successfully, as Can did on albums like Future Days. Here we're just taking a step down.

Anyway let's get to the good news. On opening track "I Want More," the band does a pretty good job of making an avant-pop single. It just doesn't sound much like Can. They pull a similar feat on side one closer "Babylonian Pearl." They should've handed these tracks over to David Bowie, who probably could have made them a perfect fit. In between we find the band playing around with island and even disco rhythms to various degrees of success. "Cascade Waltz"
has some fun sonic bursts courtesy of Irmin Schmidt and I do like the tribal disco of "...And More."

As I suppose was a Can tradition, they get more experimental on the next side. We get an ethnological forgery on the album with the completely tribal "Smoke." Finally, Can's edge makes an appearance and for me this is the best cut on the album. Then Can attempts an epic track with the closing title song. Unfortunately, they ride along a simple galloping groove for a full ten minutes and it's just not that interesting; I get bored after about two minutes of this. It's like something that would have been a short interlude on a better track like "Halleluwah."

So, there you have it. This is nowhere near Can's prime, but it includes one stellar Can track in the form of "Smoke," along with dabblings in avant-pop, island sounds, and disco. For me the disco works pretty well, the avant-pop is ok, and the island stuff tends to fall on it's face. I wouldn't venture here unless you've already heard Tago Mago 362 times.

Buy Me:
Can - 1976 - Flow Motion

Can - 1976 - Unlimited Edition

Quality: 4 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 4.5 out of 5

When folks talk about Can's essential albums, Unlimited Edition does not often make the list. It�'s admittedly an odds and sods collection and features tracks featuring vocalists Malcolm Mooney, Damo Suzuki, and the four-piece Can. And yes, there are definitely a few duff tracks. Regardless of these shortcomings and discontinuities, Unlimited Edition holds together surprisingly well (at least the first disc does) and is home to some of Can's best tracks, including arguably the very best Mooney tracks.

Can always kept the tape rolling at their Inner Space studio, so they had no problem coming up with prime stuff that may have simply not fit on their proper LPs. Let's go ahead and talk about the Mooney tracks first, which I feel are the highlights of this album. Mooney appears on four tracks: "Mother Upduff," "Fall Of Another Year," "Connection," and "Empress And The Ukraine Kid." In the Pitchfork Media review, they note that these tracks would make a kick-ass EP and I wholeheartedly agree with them. It's like hearing an alternate universe Can where they were just as good as the prime Suzuki years, but in which Mooney had never quit the band. It's a very different, more-rock oriented direction, but still provides a showcase for Can's metronomic signature and a bit of weird experimentation. I especially dig the extremely strange story and avant-jazz backing in "Mother Upduff." It sounds like Mooney's making it up as he goes along and I mean this as a compliment. Mooney's vocal seems to be pre-emptively channeling Jello Biafra on "Connection." If there's any downside with the Mooney sessions, it's the repetition. Can did this with Suzuki too, but they also more or less abandoned all sense of conventional rock with Suzuki. Still, when the riffs are as awesome as those in "Fall Of Another Year" and "Connection," I have no problem with a little repetition. As a side note, Mooney's vocal seems to be pre-emptively channeling Jello Biafra on "Connection."

Suzuki's tracks are also quite good here, but don't stand out as much. I do enjoy the strange chanting of "Doko E," but Can probably did end up with their best stuff on the proper albums when Suzuki was their vocalist.

The band does quite well on their own here. Opening track "Gomorrha" is awesome, with one of the best deployments of Can's recurring 'descending-riff' motif. It's certainly a standout for bassist Czukay.

Along with plenty of song snippets which are fun but were probably never fleshed out enough for a proper album, there are also five tracks from Can's ethnological forgeries series. Once again, these would not have fit on the bands classic albums (although later installment would show up on albums like Flow Motion), but it's very amusing to hear the band attempt world influences ranging from Turkey to Japan to Dixieland jazz.

I really love listening to this album. Although laden with one non-epic (I'm looking at you, 17-minute long "Cutaway") and some piecemeal one to two minute tracks, Unlimited Edition makes for a fine tour of Can at their often best. It's like a retrospective from an alternate dimension where Can put out something different that Tago Mago or Ege Bambasi.

Buy Me:
Can - 1976 - Unlimited Edition

Can - 1974 - Soon Over Babaluma

Quality: 3.75 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 4 out of 5

People tend to see this album as either the end of Can's classic period or the beginning of their depressing plunge. I'm not sure if I ascribe to one of these views, but I am unwilling to put this one in the same ballpark as something like Future Days or Tago Mago. There's still enough here to be worthwhile, however, as Can brings the spacey glide or Future Days down to Earth or perhaps some alien planet.

Of course, the big change here is the absence of vocalist Damo Suzuki. Previous to this disc he ran off with a Jehovah's Witness and the band went on as a four-piece with Irmin Schmidt and Michael Karoli taking vocals. Neither of them are particularly strong singers, but they often sound strangely sort of like Suzuki. What's really different is that Can no longer has a catalyst for their sonic explorations. I feel that Mooney and especially Suzuki seemed to prod the band into the interstellar reaches. On "Dizzy Dizzy" and "Come Sta. La Luna" we find a much less experimental-sounding band. The quality of the tracks are still pretty good, but they're missing a bit of the old fire. Drummer Liebezeit in particular seems to have a lot less intensity on the first two tracks.

With the the third track, the almost Bitches Brew -like "Splash," Can steps up and delivers a track worthy of their legacy. Even Liebezeit delivers here with lots of awesome jazzy polyrhythms. One thing that is a personal qualm about this album and "Splash" is the violin-sounding keyboards that Schmidt employs throughout the album. It simply is not my favorite sound in this context. You might dig it.

Side two of the album is fortunately classic Can. "Chain Reaction" and "Quantum Physics" successfully the more experimental side of Can for what is pretty much the last time in their recording career. The band finally soars off of a bubbling rhythm for some spectacular ensemble jamming (I feel Can is one of only a few rock bands that deserves a license to jam) before settling into a somewhat goofy, galloping section with vocals. Then the band practically dissolves into "Quantum Physics." The band whisps away over the next eight minutes until nothing is left. It's the sound of peaceful disintegration.

If you've already got Can's classics, this is probably the next place to go. It's missing a real standout track like "Mushroom" or a great epic like "Mother Sky," but enough of Can's talent comes through to make this worth exploring. It probably was the last time that Can's experimental edge made the cut.

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Can - 1974 - Soon Over Babaluma

Dragonfly - 1968 - Celestial Songs EP

Quality: 4 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 4 out of 5

As you can see from the cover art, Dragonfly was the first home of Peter Criss, drummer from Kiss. Wait, no. Scratch that. Here we have a talented group of Dutch guys who called themselves Dragonfly who managed a 1968 released but never got to record more than an EP. It's too bad because this is a damn fine EP with great psychedelic hooks and a touch of experimentation that shows some real promise.

"Celestial Dreams" actually packs several innovations into its four minutes. Along with a fine, almost psych-folk vocal we get an awesome jazzy rhythm section, a touch of Hendrix-type lead guitars, and some odd noises which sound halfway between the three-way of analog synths, strings, and horns swooping through the background. Then with the similarly titled "Celestial Empire," the band lunges into full-tilt fuzzed out garage psych. That's a lot of genres for one side of an EP.

The second side includes a few lighter rockers that show no drop in quality with "Desert Of Almond" and "Prince Of Amboyna." Maybe these guys were going for concept albums in miniature. These last couple tracks make me think of early Caravan a little bit as they are also psych pop with a touch of jazz rhythms thrown it. Distinctively different is once again the guitarist, who is one of the best Hendrix imitators that I've come across. It almost makes me think that the man himself may have dropped in on these sessions. Almost.

You'll thirst for more after you give this a listen, but we've got to get what we can. These guys are ripe for one of those compilations that dredge up long forgotten studio demos and/or live tracks if such a thing exists.

Billy Nicholls - 1968 - Would You Believe

Quality: 4.5 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 3.75 out of 5

Billy Nicholls had everything going for him for a while. He dropped out of high school in 1967 and headed to seek his musical fortune in swinging London. Somehow he managed to impress George Harrison enough to get a referral to the fledgling Immediate Records, where he got to record an album almost completely self penned, complete with backing from an orchestra and the Small Faces. Unfortunately, the bottom then fell out for poor Billy. Immediate Records sank like a stone, and except for a couple of promo copies, this one didn't see the light of day until the late 1990's.

As with many withheld albums, the reputation of this is a bit inflated. The rep is that this is another Pet Sounds, which sets the bar just a little too high. This isn't too far under though, comparing favorably with the Small Faces own albums and proving itself maybe the best example of British sunshine pop.

Once again, it's not quite Brian Wilson level, but the vocal arrangements on Would You Believe are exceptional. Billy has a soaring, smooth voice and his backing arrangements are nothing to sneeze at. They do manage to eclipse what the Who or the Beatles were doing vocally at the time.

Of course, the other carrot hanging in front of your face here is the presence of the Small Faces. They do a fine job, although the show restraint as not to steal Billy's thunder. I'd say their moment of glory on this album is on "Girl From New York," with Steve Marriott providing at face-melting fuzzed out lead guitar, and drummer Jerry Shirley pounding the hell out of his skins. Another session notable in the guise of Nicky Hopkins shows up on the disc, playing some fine harpsichord parts.

Still, young Billy is clearly the star of this album, with the previously mentioned angelic vocals and some wise beyond his 19 years songwriting. The songs here are very much fully formed and top tier. Immediate seemed strangely wary anyway and saddled him with the outside written title track which leads the album. Although a little poppier and less soaring than Billy's own compositions, it is fortunately also a great track and ends up an asset.

Billy certainly had some fine potential single material of his own. Everything here is damn catchy, but "Daytime Girl" sounds like it should have been a top of the pops classic record. Oh well. I'm also partial to the climbing vocal of "Life Is Short." It's no mystery where Brian Wilson comparisons come in as he was one of the only other fellows writing stuff like this.
There's also the topical hipster reference with "London Social Degree," which is one of those songs you have to pick the initials out of. It too has a great melody and would have been fine without the goofy hipster touch.

Would You Believe is an album with a tinge of regret. This is only Billy's debut and had this gotten a proper release, it could have stood toe-to-toe with the Kinks' Village Green or the participating Small Faces' Ogden's Nut. Billy could've been a contender so to speak as his career progressed. As it was, Billy became more of a behind-the-scenes figure, working with a number of big names like the Who and Phil Collins behind the boards.

The most recent reissue includes some demos and outtakes on a second disc entitled Snapshot. I'm too lazy to review it, but seeing as this admittedly fully formed album is his only proper release that I know of, you'll want to hear it for a bit more of Billy.

Buy Me:
Billy Nicholls - 1968 - Would You Believe

Small Faces - 1968 - Ogden's Nut Gone Flake

Quality: 4 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 3.5 out of 5

I bet I would've done this one earlier if I hadn't threatened to do so in my profile blurb. Oh well, we've gotten to it now, and this stands as the Small Faces prime psychedelic moment. It is their best album, but I'd still hand someone the Immediate Singles as an introduction before this.

The band's psychedelic window dressings are much denser on this disc than on their previous recordings. Even with the amped-up freakiness, I can't help but think that these guys are R&B rockers at heart. Fortunately the band used this dichotomy as an asset which is none more apparent than on this album.

Ogden's Nut Gone Flake is a primordial concept album, even though the concept doesn't really kick in until the second side. That's not to say that there isn't some fine material throughout. Really, some of the tracks completely divorced from the 'concept' are highlights of the album.

Among the classics to be found on side one is the rocker "Afterglow." This one starts of with some rather clickity rhythms (that fare much better in the mono mix) and a crooning Ronnie Lane, before going full-tilt hard rock majestic with Steve Marriott providing an anthemic lead.

Separated from "Afterglow" by a few tracks that still maintain a good 'album track' quality is the almost novelty single "Lazy Sunday." Legend has it that the band intended this track as more or less of a joke, but for better or for worse they equipped it with a great chorus. The song proved itself as a single and basically found its way on the album whether the band wanted it to or not. Granted, I can see where the band balked at the goofy cockney vocals, but it's still a great track.

Speaking of cockney, once the second side starts, so does the 'concept' which is punctuated by narrative gibberish courtesy of British comedian Stanley Unwin. It's mildly amusing once or twice, especially if you've been drinking, but all in all probably wasn't the best choice. The concept's there, but you're a braver man (or woman) than I if you're able to find your way through the thick brouge to experience the lysergic tale of Happiness Stan.

Fortunately the songs are still pretty good. "Rollin' Over" cops the "Purple Haze" riff a little too closely for me to enjoy, but "The Journey" nicely delivers on it's title. "Mad John" is a totally groovy folkish story song, and "HappyDaysToyTown" gives us a climactic conclusion to Happiness Stan's story while sounding utterly and tweely insane. It kind of gives me the same vibe as the movie ending "Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life" from Monty Python's Life Of Brian.

At least in the album format, this is the crowning achievement of the Small Faces. It has a few weaknesses that tend to get glossed over in most reviews, but still has enough verve and cool tracks to be a required listen.

Buy Me:
Small Faces - 1968 - Ogden's Nut Gone Flake

Small Faces - 1967 - Immediate Singles

Quality: 4 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 3.5 out of 5

Although the Small Faces were adept at album making, I feel that they really shined on their singles. This collection (available as bonus tracks on the Small Faces 35th anniversary edition) includes four singles released at the absolute peak of the band's powers. The A-sides here are absolutely phenomenal, while the B-sides are still worthy tracks.

"I Can't Make It" is an R&B stomper which is very much in the non-psychedelic mold of their Decca Records recordings. It's flip side, "Just Passing," however, is a full plunge into the whimsical side of psychedelia with a wavering Ronnie Lane vocal and what seems to be a celeste (along with a bicycle horn). It really does "just pass" though with it's 1:13 running time.

"Here Comes The Nice" and "Itchycoo Park" are the band's absolute masterpiece singles. With a phenomenal melody and great arrangement, "Here Comes The Nice" seems to suggest that the band is heading for sunshine pop territory until the band steps up the aggressive edge in the second half and Steve Marriott gets a chance for a small touch of R&B shouting. "Itchycoo Park," while not copying the previous single at all, performs a single trick with the pastoral verses contrasting with Marriott obvious shouted drug reference of "I got high!" There is a wonderfully phased middle eight to seal the deal.

Where the first three singles are of a piece with Small Faces, "Tin Soldier" anticipates the next album, Ogden's Nut Gone Flake. It's got a widescreen sound with plenty of production space. It a textured piece that isn't quite a masterpiece, but it's still a fine single with great Marriott vocals and a touch of gospel influence.

Mono and stereo mixes are available for this one and my comments on the Small Faces album hold true for this as well.

The albums are fine and dandy, but this is a 20 minute blast of the Small Faces at their peak.

Buy Me:
Small Faces - 1967 - Immediate Singles

Small Faces - 1967 - Small Faces

Quality: 3.5 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 3 out of 5

The Small Faces were a reasonably successful group in 60's Britain, but they never really managed break into the States, and for whatever reason they haven't been particularly well remembered. As such, they have become superstars of the obscure, if you will. You'll probably run into them as soon as you start digging into the 60's and they have sort have gained some additional allure as a result of this.

The band started out as a wailing R&B influenced beat group with Steve Marriott's powerful pipes leading the charge. As we enter their more psych-period on this Immediate Records debut, we find some additional depth from vocals from Marriott's songwriting partner Ronnie Lane. He is technically nowhere near Marriott's singing level, but his somewhat happily lethargic vocals probably fit the psychedelic mold that the Small Faces were working for around this time.

Truth be told, this isn't a particularly psychedelic album. The flourishes of 1967 are certainly present, but the modus operandi are folk rock and the harder hitting mod sound. Much of this favorably compares to early-Who tracks. In fact, drummer Kenny Jones would eventually end up in the Who as Keith Moon's replacement. Much of his drumming here is very Moon-like.

This is an extremely short album at 30 minutes. Nothing here overstays it's welcome; songs like "Feeling Lonely" (at 1:37) could probably stand to be longer. It does cohere very well as an album and makes for a great blast of 60's pop.

"(Tell Me) Have You Ever Seen Me" starts of the album with a single-worthy track with some aggressively strummed acoustic guitars and a catchy-as-hell chorus. "Happy Boys Happy" is a slightly wacky instrumental stuck in the middle of side one of the album. All in all, the first side of the album stands as mildly gritty folk rock.

The psychedelia creeps in a little stronger with side one's closer "Green Circles." We hear a little bit of a baroque arrangement and a fine chorus that the Who would rip off ten years later for "Who Are You." "Become Like You," a enjoyable psych-folk track, starts off the next side.

Side two does a fair amount more experimenting with sound. As many British bands of the era do, the Small Faces tackle music hall on "All Our Yesterdays" while "Talk To You" adds a little fuzz to the sound (and has a little musical quote that the Who would use on Tommy; it was nice of these fellows not to sue). With the album closer "Eddie's Dreaming," the band throws in some horns, flutes, and bongos for a more produced sound.

Once again, both the mono and stereo mixes are available on CD. And once again, I've got to opt for the mono myself. One of my pet peeves is sticking the drums completely in one channel, and unfortunately that was the stereo norm at the time. I think the added punch of mono does a lot for these guys too.

Small Faces is a fine album. My only real problem with it is that it doesn't seem to have much staying power for me. I'm not sure why. Marriott and Lane are a fine songwriting team. I suppose it'll all click for me someday. Maybe it'll be quicker for you.

Feb. 2010 edit: I've been listening to this one again recently - I guess it finally clicked for me and I would crank the ratings up to 4.25 for quality and 3.5 for the Trip-O-Meter. The songwriting stands out even more to me now and I love the completely ridiculous chord progression of "All Or Yesterdays."

Buy Me:
Small Faces - 1967 - Small Faces

Bobby Callender - 1968 - Rainbow

Quality: 4 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 4.5 out of 5

Now here's a strange one. Bobby Callender was a poet and lyricist who found himself under the wing of Alan Lorber. Armed with a top-flight, although strangely mixed, group of session musicians the fellows cooked up an odd stew of jazz, orchestral pop, R&B, and folk all properly psychedelicized for the discerning ears of 1969 (or 68; I'm really not sure) The results are actually very good. It's not quite the creme de la creme, but I'm willing to say that this one ranks as a lost classic.

The Allmusic Guide compares Bobby Callender with Scott Walker. There's certainly an analogy to make regarding the cadence and meaning of the lyrics, and the way the musicians accompany each singer are certainly similar. Given that, Callender's arrangements are typically more "out there" than Walker's 60's productions (we'll leave 2006's The Weight out of this). There is alot of dramatic, almost showtune-like arrangements as on Walker's contemporary albums. Don't look for the vocal chops here though. Callender's voice has a nice crooning sound, but it's pretty limited and comes nowhere near Walker's phenomenal range.

Most of these tracks probably rank as psychedelic tone poems or story songs. Along with some baroque orchestral arrangements, the drone of a sitar, and a touch of organ, "Mother Superior" tells the story of a doomed pious woman. It would probably offend someone. The opening title tracks is the poppiest track here, with one of the few immediate melody lines present (I think it was sampled by the Edan album in the Dr. Schluss archives).

I feel that Callender is most effective on the longer form songs. "The Story Of Rahsa & d'Ahra" starts off with Callender's creepy, delayed vocals along with a droning arrangements, until we find ourselves left with only Callender's echoing voice and a flute. Finally the tune lurches into a poppy, yet reverbed and splattered sounding coda. "Raga Man" follows this track with a similar aesthetic (although I think everything is going through an echo box on this one), making almost a mini-song suite. "Purple" does a good job of maintaining it's atmospheric, floating vibe for almost 12 minutes as Callender sings his poetry in psychedelic troubadour mode.

The poetic aspect is very worth noting on this one. I tend to focus on the music first, and I have yet to really soak in all of Callender's often dense poetry. He does deliver the poetic goods, however, and focusing on that add a few more layers to this disc. It's clear that Lorber's arrangements are trying to serve the poetic meanings to some degree.

Giving the listener a bit of a twist in the arena of orchestra pop, Rainbow does a fine job with it's niche, adding Indian drones and some serious psychedelic touches. You should probably listen to this in a colorfully-lit, smoke-filled room (incense smoke, of course). It's that kind of an album.

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Bobby Callender - 1968 - Rainbow

Saddhu Brand - 1970 -Whole Earth Rhythm

Quality: 3.5 out of 5
Trip-O-Meter: 4 out of 5

This is what happens when you get four hippies back in San Francisco after a four year layover in India. Sounding strangely burnt out yet happy, the songsters of Saddhu Brand stick exclusively to traditional Indian instruments and vocals. The vocals come in two variety: the strangely unemotional sounding female chorale vocals and the voice of one addled guru sort of fellow by the name of Peter Van Gelder (from Great Society).

In many ways, this disc makes me think of a weird transmutation of the British freak-folk scene. There's a kind of Incredible String Band vibe here, although this band has a different set of acoustic instruments and they're nowhere near as talented as the ISB. I have trouble giving this one too high of a quality score, but I do find this album highly entertaining. They pretty much show their entire sonic hand on the opening title track and proceed to plumb it for all it's worth.

The whole affair reeks of patchouli (or may let's say Nag Champa, I hate patchouli), but what we have here is for the most part is a typical San Fran band thrown through a Hindu blender. "People Brittle" would easily translate to a later period Jefferson Airplane song with electric Western instruments, and "I Give You Johnee The Truth" is only one step removed from sounding like West Coast "cowboy" music like New Riders Of The Purple Sage. Just get a different singer and ditch the flute and sitar. Of course the charm of this albums is that it does have the aforementioned flute and sitar.

On the longer tracks "Babu Shoda" and "Dabi Das' Song" the band tries their hand at more authentic Indian style compositions. It's not going to stand in my way if I'm reaching for a Ravi Shankar record, but it's enjoyable enough. While they do whip up a wild dervish sort of sound on the later track, it's far muddier and less precise than something similar that the Indian masters would concoct.

Whole Earth Rhythm threatens to confirm more than one cliche concerning the late 60's. If you can stomach that and enjoy Indian instrumentation, you'll probably find something to enjoy. I apologize for the low bit rate (@128). Usually I can't stand that rate, but this one still sounds pretty good. I found this one on the Lost-In-Tyme blog.