...its gotta be said, th'truth must be told, th'solid gospel that th' known is based on, th'knowledge that this joint from way back in 65 is th' best utterance that this cat ever issued forth'n put down for all interested parties...his later fusion type blather might be good, even great for what it is but this explosions biscuit is th' sound o' th'urban landscape,all th'claustrophobic paranoia that surrounds every thinkin' bein' on th' roam...this is movement, perhaps random, perhaps thought out, always seemin'ly in th' right place givin' texture,buildin' on what went before, cause'n effect...bob james'n th'cats(includin' a coupla avant garde types on some electric computer bleeps'n blips/drones)get down with th'free jazz blowout that was happ'nin' in NYC at th' time(albert ayler/sonny murray etc)with bob givin' his piano a proper set to with scrapin' th' strings, plinkin'n stabbin', really gettin inside th' instrument, to take it all further...drums clatter'n bang with forceful abandon, glad to break out from any precise timin' that might give constriction to th' eternal self, th'bass lays down an ever changin' backdrop that comes forward with avant noodles when necessary to interrupt earlier thoughts with new expressions, just like th' big city with its chaotic vibe...th'tape collagin' works in well,interminglin' with th'out jazzbo groove that's perculatin just fine, hittin' th' spot with some left field science...th'trio's version o' hep-outness-free-spirit jazz may touch th'modern list'ner as slightly professorial when up against some other works on th'ESP-Disk imprint(surely th'greatest label ever,that aint really no exaggeration when th' whole catalog is viewed with an eye for th'way forward, who else was gettin' this kinda gubbins on th' market with th' sole purpose o' havin' it heard, no other agenda, it is what it is'n always will be th' bench mark for unpretentious art, an art that far outstrips any'n all competition that may stray into th'fields o' exploration o' HEPness)but that thought may be changed within a spin or two...lightness o' touch in some places gives th' list'ner time to reflect on some o' th' more chaotic parts, just like an early evenin' sojourne from th' days batterin that th' crowded metroplis can lay on th' more sensitive cats out in th' wilderness o' th' concrete jungle, where capitalist ambush is waitin' for th' next mark to come down th' pike...a top earfull o' solid jams, th' type o' which aint made anymore,which is one reason jazz today as a music is just part o' th' enterainment industry its worthiness to enrich seems to have disappeared, been swallowed by th' corporate miasma...grab th'train to th' hearts o' gonesville'n groove with some medative mind tappin'...a slight aside that may be o' interest to certain parties is th'cool fact th'artwork was put together by jay dillon from th'ever groovy godz...

...when punk club th'masque needed bread to keep goin' back in early 78, all LA punk combos got together for a show over th'weekend o' 24/25 february to help bring in th'necessary scratch($4.300 raised)...all th'rockin' cats were there,black randy/screamers/controllers/dils/zeros/deadbeats/alley cats/dickies/flesheaters/f-word/eyes/plugz plus th'four featured on this historical document, germs/bags/skulls/weirdos...cats who know th'score when it comes to late 70s punk swill will know whats on offer here,intense crazy poundin',guitars sprayin' out o' tune noise pellets,shoutin'n screechin'n moanin'(alice bag on this one)all speedin' down th'back alleyways o' rockrollin',outta control neo bohemian ruffians'n hooligans all racin' to th'new dawn,all hopin' to save their premier punk club from extinction...th'tapes're bit messy but that as always just adds to th'list'nin' pleasure,takin' it all back to when th'ruff'n ready was th'only way,no planned out strategies with everything neatly in its place,this is a drunk driver on th'hi-way to nirvanic oblivian...

...these cats had th'right idea when it came to layin' down th'tuneage'n thats keep any pretentions o' production 'n any other such fangleedanglee ideas o' improvement well away from th'case in hand...switch th'tape on'n record th'racket,thats all thats needed...its only combos who aint sure o' their worth that need help...here's a right nice amalgam o' beatnik folk'n goodtime vibes fed through a kaleidoscope o' grooves takin' in such high priests o' swill as th'elevators'n th'velvets'n mixin' it with some hep gaggle from everpresent fullness/notes from th'underground /charlatans...failin' to schmooz any'n all record co. cuboids or parlez their wares into some streched out ballroom psych has ensured they've become enshrined in west coast mythology...came in a box cos good things come in small packages...

...first solo long play joint from th'female preacher,one o' james browns most expressive vocalists,at home on doo-wop/patented JB funk/soul testafyin' or just some good ol' downhome funk cut with a bucket o' week old chicken, in other words this sista had it goin' on righteously...she cools out nicely on some moody gal group R&B, trips out with some updated HEP souljazz shuffle,fingerpoppin' stuff,stoned to th'bone...th'whole wax is one flipped out ride on th'soul train to georgia-G.A,in fact this disk is so cool'n groovy that JB put it out on one o' his subsidaries ensurin' it reached as few o' th'dominant culture-vulture record biz types as possible so she wouldn't get offered a solo career'n leave his revue, james was no-one fool(except his own)...from a whisper to a scream this is steppin' out in style in th'moonlight,mid summer in th'city,everything is fine'n funky, just rollin' with th'flow, gettin' th'groove'n movin' on...uptown or outta town, cats just gotta get on down...

...this is some serious back door funk,mixin' in a soul groove with some fine R&B vibes searin' high into th'clouds...a marvelous testamont to some high energy wailin' from this vitually unknown southern soulstress who somehow disappeared off th'map,never to be heard o' again after this 1970 platter offerin',where'd she go?why is this incredible voice not been unleashed since then...all a cats gotta do is get within earshot o' soul fever'n they're gonna flip at th'power flyin' off th'grooves, high intensity workouts that just dont let up,its a mind wrenchin' buzz from beginnin'to end...

...when brion gysin first met bill borroughs in th'early 50's he spoke o' his ideas to cut up pre-existin' texts to enable a re-arrangement o' words'n bring new meanin' to said wordage...bill was not really hip to that idea,he was happ'nin' at a different level at th' time,tryin' to get high on yage to break through th'mental barriers o' societies alignments...brion went back to formulatin' his cut up text'n again met burroughs in paris in '58,this time bill was more amenable to th'idea o' changin' th'written word to represent a whole new idea,to convey something unknown,unforeseen in th'original arrangement o' letters...also brion was experimentin' with tape manipulation,readin' his/others poetry aloud into th'microphone, then cuttin' th'tape at different intervals to bring a new poem into bein' totally unconnected to th'original...th'recordin's on this LP were made with th'express intention o' showin' bill th'magic in rearrangement, dull prose could become a conduit for future thinkin',beautiful poems could divulge new ways o' seein' th'world...one o' those recordin's that must first be heard a few times before a proper list'nin' session is undertaken,late night in a dimly lit room will bring marvelous thought patterns from this half hour o' stop-start button pressin'...

...first show at th'fillmore east in '68 see's th'dead layin' down an intense mojo storm o' heavy distorted bohemian blooz direct from th'LSD swamp, this biscuit is one mind zoomin' jam that dont let go,it blasts into freaksville'n stays there pumpin' out th'smokey vibes...th'hand held tape is muddy'n blurr'd'n that suits(adds to) this explosion o' atoms'n nucleus,its like when th'cream played in detroit in 67,an apocalyptic onslaught o' drug damage,even dr.benway aint this far out,its th'sound o' skin bein' sucked inside th'bones,th'worlds collapse into blarein' chromium meltin' patterns with no hope o' returnin' to today...th'insides o' a cats head gonna turn to mush,th'ticket has been purchased for th'last train to gonesville,no return destination,mixin' who style heavy metal,jimi acid screach,MC5 fireworks'n smearin' it all over their already messed up owsley informed R&B has created a HOTCHA train wreck o' 1968 riot torn noise, this is th'inner cities on fire,napalmed children callin' in th'newscasts from capitalism central...cats who dig th'grunge sound o' third generation,batteries liable to go at any moment style underground recordin's gonna flip on this example o' 'in th'zone',livin' th'moment vibe provided here...whats really cool about whats happ'nin is th'dead get movin'with 'feedback' as well as end with it,in between they launch into some 'heavy air' jams, goin' into overdrive, crashin' th'gears through th'floor like neal cassady on th'one last ride to terminal city,'th'futures uncertain, but th'end is always near'?...all th'combo get to let loose'n interweave as is a groovy dead experience but this is added to with a nervous edge o' amphetamine paranoia that uptight cities like NY can bring on,especially back in th'day before homogeneous liberal mind control took complete hold o' th'squares...any cat who knows th'dead're more than a soundtrack to a weekend hippy lifestyle will dig this hour o' blurry ballroom damage,'n then some...

...pearls before swine,one o' th'greatest combos from th'hippy years,mainly th'vision o' tom rapp(with floatin' personel as time went by)were signed originally to ESP-Disk thereby signifyin' their worthiness as all ESP wax is o' very high import(even th'play thing they put out)...legend has it th'incarnate pearls,down in their hometown o' florida got enough bread together to press up some demos o' their tunes'n send them out to various possibly interested parties,one o' which bein' th'aformentioned ESP-Disk...said demo disk was o' very low sound quality,almost inaudible but there was enough presense'n mystery to make th'heads at ESP offer to bring them to NYC'n lay down some tuneage at th'IMPACT SOUND studio(aka,ESP laboratories)'n so born was th'debut' ONE NATION UNDERGROUND, a marvellous concoction o' wobbly ethereal folkiness mixed in with some avant moves(morse code blips/bleeps,ocillators)...its a strange sound, almost (on a budget)baroque in places,as autoharps,celeste,banjo,finger cymbals get busy with garage band organ noise all swimmin' in a vat o' fine sunshine acid,if'n richard farina hadn't took his bike ride he'd quite possibly gone in this direction as he was fine tunein' his own brand o' mountain dew urban folk in early 66,no problem seein' him get groovy on th'LSD'n gettin' wiggy...th'arrangements aint no standard folk rock pop,more off centre, a hauntin' beauty pervades th'work,a thin web o' otherness surrounds th'list'ner,at once removin' reality from th'physical plane,shiftin' time into a meltin' flow o' gauseian haziness, a calm decends bringin' inner peace for a few fleetin' moments...unlike some,this wax aint lost one iota o' poetic power'n beauty in th'four decades o' its existance,as quietly stunnin' as it ever was...

...second pearls waxin' again released via ESP-Disk,its their anti-war missive comin' as it did in th'year o' th'barricades,1968,but this aint no shoutin'n pokin' fun slap in th'face like country joe/fish,its much more considered'n obtuse...startin' with a recordin' o' some old cat who'd been in th'crimean war back in th'1850s'n th'penultimate endin' with florence nightingale also from that fracas,so this aint no ordinary anti LBJ diatribe...whispered background vocals,tinklin'bells,wood/wind all combine to produce a fine canvas for tom to lay down his ideas with his soft dark melancholy vocals,there weren't too much soundin' like this back in th'day'n not so much today,though some undoubtably try to get near th'essence o' what makes this LP such a dusty garret experience,a late night ponderation on th'state o' things...beautiful'n pastorial yet doomed,floatin' effortless with hope but recognisin' th'sad knowledge that mankind will one day exist only in legends wrapped in a faraway universe...'only the dead have seen the end of war' was quoted on th'sleeve note, not one thing makes that any less true right now...

...very interestin' LP from david stoughton, released in 68 on th' then worthwhile elektra label,a sorta folkrock/avant doodle blowout...some strains o' tim buckley round'bout 'hello goodbye' in th' arrangements with wind instruments paintin' th' back drop givin' this a bit o' musicianship as opposed to some hippy airy-fairyness that often happens with late six-oh joints in this category...theres a theatricality to some o' this but aint no way this got anything to do with th' theatre(that would be enough to turn any cat off,in fact it aint really folk rock either, thats just a lazy handle for th'moment),sound collages're happenin' on about half th'trx which puts this into that rarefied strata,not easily catagorised'n all th'better for it...heads that dig th'adventurous wax, but not th'clever-clever overbearin' type that really says nothin' will get a buzz here, a friendly groove thats welcome'n gives pleasure on repeated spins...

...f-word,early arrivers on th'LA punk scene back in 77'n th'first to get a long play wax out to th'populace,a cool way for them to kick off,its a live offerin' taped at th'mabuhay gardens(fab mab) showin' rick l.rick/dim wanker/dutch shultz/steve effete crashin' their way through a heavy blast o' newly formin' spikey punk rock,stripped down speedy metal, grounded in th'likes o' th'iggy/james williamson combination, like what radio birdman sounded like in '76, th'amphetamine mid70s garage beat from th'inner suburbs o' differin' major locales across th'rocknroll-planet...thrashin' mangled spazz rock poundin' its way into existance,th'first tune(after a great intro by club owner/promoter dirk dirkson where he has friendy banter with poshboy,f-words english manager, dig it...)exhalts th'onlookers to'do th'nihil',f-words anti-dance they no doubt had high hopes o' seein' come to fruition, but th'manifestation o' such ideas only become corporate'n end up as th'retarded mosh pit o' identikit pop-punk thirty years later...showin' their'dedication'to nihilism they treat th'then paranoid-freaky hillside strangler(LApunx own charlie manson for a few months) to an ode,followed by more thrashin'n then a NYdolls cover(bad girl)which they do real well,a basement spillage o' overdosed rockin'...ever more rowdy rockin' comes on over th'next few tunes...it all ends with th'germs'shut down'n stooges'no fun'with some inbetween audience participation,just like a 69 stooges gig only more friendly...every thing a layabout needs for a buzzed afternoons rockin',wonderful mind travel to when there was fresh hope in th'rockroll universe,when th'backrooms/cellars o' dank'n dirty buildin's provided cats with a refuge from th'blahs,a hideout from th'square world,bohemia with blastin' ampage,warm beer'n a spliff to get on through to th'other side...

...flipper put out some o' th'most temporal distorted mind swill that aint really been beat, even to this day th'sound they put down some thirty years back still holds up,a intoxicatin' mixture o' bad-trip acid rock,droned-out sludge metal, all punched through with a needle damaged punkrock charge...a lotta later combos play heavier/louder more distorted sounds but they don't have th'barroom beatnik 'get-up-&-play'vibe that just pours off prime fillets o' flipper,with nowaday combos th'sound is more clean cut in its distortion,more generic,less abrasive,even with all th'techy induced noise or more to th' point cos o' it (flipper were right when they called their first LP joint GENERIC,very prescient)...what we got here with'blow'n chunks' is a funky documentation o' flippers trek through th'right coast o' uncle sams land in '83,th'audience gets cavalcades o' mountainous gunky sloop poured on them without let up,they're bombarded with relentless gutter noise until they submit to th'greater will'n art'n bein' that is FLIPPER...does th'rag-tag bunch o' various onlookers'n curiosity seekers enjoy th'band?do th'band enjoy th'audience?th'answer to that'n many other questions remains buried in th'sub-concsious vague memories o'times now lost...hear th'merky grumble o'worlds collapsin' before its too late...

...somewhat forgotten now'n thats a drag for th'unbeknowin' cos this is one expansive double wax o' cooled out funk/moody lounge/gospel/swampy grooves that hangs in th'air real nice, it just insinuates its way into whatever vibe may be happ'nin' around it, takin' over to be right for th' moment whether it was intended or not...it takes a few spins to get th' full juice outta it, not every trk makes th' grade first time round but it sure can get addictive if a cat wants it that way...booker t jones'n priscilla coolidge put this out when they got hitched back in th'early 70s'n cats wantin' some green onions might be a tad outta luck but any heads needin' some slow delta funk will be right in th'turnip patch mashin' th' moonshine'n comin' up with th'goods...recorded just outside o' deliverance this is a 'real' recordin' by entertainment cats(heres another 'music biz' weird thing,booker t. had to leave stax cos they treated him as an employee, ho hum, th'squares just dont get it or just plain don't care) gettin' real with their position in th'great tomorrow society that was bein' built by th' comin' earhshoe brigade, th' whole earth catalog shenanigans that was tryin' to get a new capitalism on th' go, subvert madison avenue dollars to 'worthier' recipients...any cats diggin' th'choogle put out by delaney&bonnie/joe cocker mad dogs/rita coolidge first 2 wax/neil young/billy preston round th'turn o'69/70 will get a strong buzz o' this,its perfect with a bottle o' red'n reefer on a lazy evenin' while th'wild dogs sleep...

...a solid stoned groove, funky jams emanatin' from these LA country rocker types who individually been scufflin' round in th'turtles/burritos/strangers when they hooked up for this reefer'd R&B blowout...dig th'cats hangin' out with 'em: dr.john/leon russell/booker t./sneaky pete plus th'blackberries doin' some fine as wine vocalization, it cant go wrong'n indeed it dont, it stays th'course rockin' out some laid back finger poppin' tunes...late night beer soaked missives from th'bar just outside o' town,th'place where th'hipsters from round th'block hang out, th'jook joint for th'unrepentant beatnik that refuses th'come on from th'TEEVEEland o' squaresville...there aint no filler, just genuine killer low down blooze, dusty'n dirty, rough'n ready goin' for th'one...all th'cats diggin' each other,gettin' this gumbo simmerin', smearin' th'whole shebang with some day old grease, a narcotic brew just right for consumption by all midnight moonlight HEPsters...

...this is jackie gettin' a funky groove on at th'back end o' 68,just in time for th'newly emergin' singer/writer phenomenon(th'fact that she had been such an artiste since th'late 50s didn't matter-this was new territory)...this is jackie 'grown up',no longer bein' seen as an irrelevant perveyor o' teenpop/MOR songstress, jackie reachin' for a new audience that might be waitin' for a new sound...bein' on an old fashion label(liberty)didn't help her get this audience, they had no idea how to market this new style so it all came to nothin'(she had a minor hit with th' bands big deal tune(th'weight)but otherwise...)...with th' brilliant illuminatin' vision o' hindsight she shoulda gone to warner bros who were gettin' some kind market space with randy newman/van dyke parks(though they couldn't shift any o' parks wax they still wanted him on th'label,they tried their upmost with him), but all this dont take away th'stone cold fact this is some barefoot funky stew that needs to be heard by all heads that dig th' strong'n mellow vibes that were happ'nin' round'bout this time,th'get back vibe that was gettin' stronger since th'tapes from big pink had started gettin' widely circulated...a top spin'n goes well with th'carole king joint(th'city) that was out th'same time...

...a nice pile up o'demos from th'screamers,one o' L.A's premier punk outfits from back in th'day when punk meant a new way o' thinkin,a new way o' doin things,a determined outlook to create a vibrant life away from th'corporate sleep o' th'seventies...eschewin th'tired old guitar approach these cats came on with squelchin cheap synth sounds,pumpin' keyboard'n drums with tortured vocals dancin over th'top,frenetic, frantic missives from th'art damaged low rent underworld...a top blast o' amphetamine spiked energy that will last long after th'records finished...

...one o' th'mysteries o' th'rocknroll world over th'last 3 decades has got to be why th'screamers never got round to puttin' any wax out,every no hoper got some crud or other on th'market if'n it was only pressed in limited quantities,some kinda sound momento o' their existance was preserved(deserved or not),but th'screamers were passed by,th'glorious path to riches'n ruination were somehow not shown on th'guide to rockinnrollin'...this is rather strange as they were early on th'scene in LA'n their brand o' rockin' was somewhat different in that they didn't employ string weapons,they were keyboard dominated'n this gives them, lookin back,a distinctly post punk sound(in 1977)...also theres a art damaged herky-jerky feel,although in no way a new-wave sound,definitely could not be classed as pop,not in this dimension,th'sound is much more desperate,th'sound o' neon nights in hollywood alleys where th'garbage people hang out,th'noise from th'end o'time,from a black hole in th'vast endless space that surrounds th'dreamers (cats who saw th'original 1976 ultavox early gigs might recognise this messy futuristic blare,though on a spiky-punky extreme,a flipped out early devo,maybe)...thats why this double disk collection o' screamer racket is a top artifact o' punked-out electronic squelchin' noise that all adventurous ears will need to get ahold o',made up o' four separate gigs taped durin' their heyday year 1978'n some demos from th'previous year,its all deliriously demented from start to finish...an amphetamine shock-wave that just dont stop,contaminated with angel dust,a hallucinogenic wonderwall o'future-primitive tribal beats clangin' through th'californian nightmare...from deep within their fevered imaginations come tunes about eva braun/twiggy/sex boys/magazine love plus other fine swill includin' a boss version o' sonny/cher 'beat goes on',a fine rockin' anthem if ever there was one...

...havin'spent th'sixties writin' some top pop'n singin' some cool tunes(girl group/folk rock),hangin' out with th'fab4 playin'monopoly'n generally groovin' in th'cool place it was time at th'end o' th'decade to get some funky earthy grooves goin',much like her contemporary carole king who was also gettin' some serious granola gear on th'simmer...recorded down in memphis this is a cool listen from front to back with some southern soul vibes minglin' with th' mung bean funk, low slung bourbon country missives from down home...definitely one o' jackies most satisfyin' LPs'n this is especially worthy o' inspection cos it comes with a bunch o' other trx recorded round th'same time...solid goodness that hits th'spot every time, top grist from a great artist...

...this nicely formed biscuit is an amalgamation o' th'best tunes from chi's first two LPs that hit th'racks back at th'beginnin' o' th'seventies when it all looked bright'n rosy for her,every cat was seemin'ly fallin' over themselves givin' chi props, her star was in th'ascendancy, no two ways about it...records on th'hit parade ensured her name was makin'th'rounds, radio/newspapers all wanted a piece o' this new talent,a female singer/writer/piano player was good copy in th'wake o' carole king/joni mitchell who themselves were makin'big noises with th'newly emergin' post hippy/post vietnam funky young adults...made up from funky propulsive grooves'n some non-sappy ballads, its a mixture o' jazzy adult pop with gospel tendencies, sorta more sophisticated/urban bonnie bramlett/rita coolidge...after this disc was released in about '75 she found herself in not so big demand,such is th'nature o' fame,an audience that was more appreciative in europe made itself known'n so off she went to find her true home for th'art she was givin' out...worth a few spins thats for sure...

...a continuation o' erics earlier voyage into acid burble that started on 'winds o' change', his adherence to all things groovy just kept on keepin' on, tryin'to show th'new ways o' thinkin'n bein',leavin' th'square world behind for good...explorin' th'inner spaceways that he had so long tried to destroy with th'boozin',he discovered th'wonderment that was within th'human psyche'n without,th'worlds within worlds...more than a few rock-snobs have put these psychedelic joints down as naive'n not up to standard(whatever that might be)but th'truth is as it seems,eric was on a mission like no other rock star o' th' times, he really wanted th'populace to turn on'n dig th' scene,dig th'vibrations that surround all right thinkin' heads,to be groovy'n spread th'positive vibes, venture into th'never endin' trip in th'search for some 'truth'...stereo pannin'/effects litter th'tunes'n make for a cool listen that stand up now'n forever more...

...th'transformation from boozer to acid disciple seemed to happen overnight with eric, one moment gluggin' down alcohol with a hell hound close on his trail,th'next he's groovin' in th'glades with a goodly dose o' sandoz floatin' through his system enablin' th'visions to arise'n blow his mind...with this LP eric was gettin' hep to th'new world that was takin' shape, th'psychedelic vibe was spreadin' fast, no longer would he visit th'house down new orleans way, he was loved up'n feelin' spaced out groovy...sitars twang,violins scrape, overlaid vocals, modal jammin' all crop up givin' th'requisite wig liftin' experience, church organs/gregorian chant(like th'yardbirds but more stoned,more intense)start a real doom laiden tune,sorta edgar allen poe on a bum trip...what is obvious after a few listens is th'stone solid fact that erics trips were many'n varied, some takin' him places he may not have wished to visit, bit th'experience was not lost, he didn't panic'n flip out completely, never to return like a certain habitue o' cambridge...eric joined th'dots to make an alternative blissed world that would run in amongst th'cubes from squaresville, subvertin' th'cats to th'wobbly zone where it was all cool strobe lights whilst lyin' on a bed o' flowers that would never wilt...here in th'21st century all a cats gotta do is take a toke or two'n spin this wax'n its th'summer o' love once more...

...righteous cosmic hippy shenanigans from bobby brown,th'first o' three long play joints he managed to release in th'early seventies on his own label...its kinda like a down market tim buckley,durin' th'latters starsailin' days(much less jazzy though)with an array o' home made instruments'n a six octave voice...carl wilson from th'beach boys was heard to utter 'incredible but it wont sell' when he first came within earshot o' th'disk'n he was right on both counts...side two is played as is,live,no overdubs,just bobby reachin' out to th'beyond with feet pumpin' th'pedals'n fingers all over th'keyboards'n shakin' shakers plus anything else he can grasp...this is very much in th'loner stoner vibe with bobby ramblin' in th'sleeve notes about th'religious knowledge'n understandin' o' future physics that at th'time o' writin' only he had access to(as we see we're dealin' with a HIGHer consciousness's unbridled ego,this is tempered somewhat by th'note that he's available for parties,no doubt on other planets)...may take a few spins to get th'juice outta this but one thing is certain,he's real,he had belief in himself,whether he's a rich-kid hippy or not is hard to make out(possibly is),but he does have love for th'human race'n round about this part o' kooksville thats a fine thing...possibly one o' a few select waxin's that can truly be called groovy(in a non-commercial or trite way),this has good vibes pourin' off,a cats just gotta get receptive'n th'magic cloud will appear to drift away with...a definite mystical other vibe happ'nin',a oneness with himself in a post beatnik,not new age way,this is too wobbly for new age,much more in a 'vision-from-th'gone-world' style,th'idea that jack kerouac might agree with this statement is open to debate,probably depended on how much beer kerouac had imbibed, but this dont deminish th'fact that bobby has intimate understandin' o' th'gone world,a tripped out cat from th'furthest reaches o' th'ENDZONE who has th'answer,at least one anyhow...

...cats who dig combos like tripsichord music box/KAK will flip with this LP o' th'bandersnatch studio recordin's,includin' some seriously long versions o' tunes that appeared on th'cd comp that came out in th'mid 90s,that comp was a mindblowin' ear opener as to how cool these cats were back in th'day,one o' th'only combos to get anywhere near translatin' psychedelic ballroom noodle into some proper studio jams...if this had been a legit LP release back in 68 they'd sure given QMS something to think about,especially th'messy happy trails wax which nowadays is somewhat difficult to get into(first side anyhows)...wigliftin',blast-bombs o' mindshatterin' string-bendin' over a tripped out blooz choogle make this one o' th'finest pure examples o' haight ashbury acid leakage ever,a ballroom light show experience for th'mind,a magic carpet ride into th'white light...

...incredible blast o' top fairyness from back in th'day,taped originally for finnish radio,this is proper nice soundin' blowout o' rockin madness,th'type th'fairies love...ladbroke grove freakout carnage comin all th'way from th'frozen north,psychedelic poundin'n heavy riffin takes th'list'ner into th'smoked out patchouli zone where th'walls wobble'n th'ceilin melts as th'decibel ampage mounts'n th'guitars twang'n buzz...its so cool to be able to get some new prime era swill from these cats,its jubilation with a fresh bong...

...recorded over th'69/70 time period,steve hangin' with paul rudolf'n twink in a coupla london studios,3 trx for twinks'think pink''n some demos o' four tunes from steve...th'twink vehicles're on th'psychy shambolic side,nice'n wobbly as expected,with steves bein' spazz'd-out acoustic numbers,that takes a cat back to those tripped out nights at th'middle earth club,a stoned buzz comin' right off th'wax,a hep bongs worth o'grooves with that streak o'meloncholic madness that takes tooky's work into th'higher stratosphere o' london town looners,hooligan bohemia comes slidin' along'n creeps up when least expected...