...theres a fair waft o' marijuana smoke comin' from this 67 biscuit with th'kweskins gettin' suitably attired on th'cover in their store bought sike shirts'n stoned ambience comin' from faraway look...a beatnik skiffle party in some psychedelic dungeon lit only by candles where th'ragtime meets th'acid vibe,where th'decades fold in on one another'n mold a new groove from th'discarded remnants o' yesteryears popular music...favourites at folk festivals in th'early 60s,their allegience to th'weed made them dig th'cool vibe in th'studio'n not get uptight with staid performances,everyone knows what they're doin'n no ones gettin' hung up with record co. squares wantin' saleable folkrock ditties...a solid gone blast round th'ol'fishin' hole chuggin' a moonshine jug o'orange aid...


Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home