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...these cats named themselves after th'60's youth cult paperback 'n scored a gig to play th'openin' night o' th'roxy, th'punk sweatbox in ol' london towne back in late '76...got dissed initially for havin' a poppy vibe to their noise but soon picked up a good pogonatious followin''n even got a couple o' hits in th'citizens hit parade...this is th'first platter'n its a goodly dose o' 77 style pop-punk worthy o' a few spins...dig th'mangulated freakout on th'last track, proper spiffin'...
...any heads interested in th'hep rockin' noise'n its history owes it to themselves to get as many listens as possible to one o' th'most important cats o' 20th century racket...charley recorded some 60 odd sides from 1929 to '34 'n this chipper roundup collects 24 hits'n lesser known cuts to make a good startin' point...cats not hearin' charley before're somewhat advised to live with these tunes for a while before gettin' down to a serious listen as his smokin'n whisky drinkin' voice might be hard to understand first off, but once breakin' through that small barrier theres many rewards to be had in his lyrics...very clean sound considerin' th'sources o' some o' th'original disks...
...as is well known amongst heads that care about such things, scott is a singular artiste with a certain perception o' how things should be done, a somewhat pedantic reasonin' comes into play when he allows himself to enter a recordin' studio, he sees th' big picture in small details which makes for lengthy timespans just to get on with one second o' music taped, th' sound has to be just so, th' way he hears it in his head (kinda like brian wilson, only more so, he makes brian seem almost carefree)...hence this is most definitely a dusty garrett listenin' experience with some medication if needed...could be said to be unnecessarily difficult listenin aswell but as with such discs play a couple times before settlin' in 'n it will be a lot easier for cats with itchy dispositions...played through cans maybe th'way forward or just turned up to somewhere approachin' stun'n let th' whole room become at one with th'sound...also th'sound quality is mighty fine, though not anticeptic which is only to be expected with 'n artist o' scotts calibre...tip top'n not a flop...
...cats with any aversions to those efforts in prolonged'n usually tenuous continuity also known as concept albums'n th' like're advised to get some o' th'medication o' their choice before spinnin' this platter cos here's a double pile-up o' th'concept to end th'whole enchilada...this is one big blowout regardin' th' end o' th'world as interperated through revelations 'n the total result seemin'ly is that jerusalem is th'center o' amerikkka...this may seem like some flipped out preacher damaged madness gone off th'rails but these cats set it to a backdrop o' power trio swill bulgin' with distorted fx pedal screach that bubbles'n blasts, pulses 'n drones for well over an hour...destined to be some sorta desired artifact some time in th' century...
...boot o' th' first outpourin's from th' whitehouse name in nineteen80...cathartic screamin' against basement electronics over th' course o' halfhours raw primal screachin' pulsations...their whole proposition is a dilemma o' th' first order, are they beatniks reportin' th' facts from an outta control square world or maybe they're just askin' a question or two...but they may have th' answer to media saturation perpetrated by th' most uptight thinkin' cubes who seek to confound 'n capitalize while there's still time...cats with a head full o' smoke may wish to visualize this racket as some sort o' entertainment from a boho cafe in a bill burroughs tale...could be a steppin' off point into another world where 'everythin' is as it seems' 'n th' population consists o' right thinkin' cats down with th' hep vibe...
...archival release o' cleveland OH. combos which is o' inestimable import to th'progression o' underground rock at th'time (mid70s) from link wray/dick dale onto th'yardbirds at th' crawdaddy to th' velvets 'n silver apples through th' deviants/stackwaddy to third world war 'n crushed butler...th'tapes have been left ruff'n ready 'n show these three distinct combos with their various aesthetic disciplines...th'mirrors kick off with what at first hearin' sounds like a way tasty pile up o' velvets damage with some prime troggs thud smeared 'n worked in...grandiose prog 'n glam vibes,but on a basement budget, swell up but are soon overcome as th' cats weave a snakey drone into th'soup...syd barrett looms with some intersteller screech which gives way to some velvets'69 poundin'...th' styrenes immediately show 'n awareness o' comic/b.movie culture 'n th'avant garde/krautrock vibrations that were happenin' in various hep locales throughout th' 70s scuzzy period o' leftover 60s thought 'n bad drugs consumption...definite jazzbo persuasions crop up with some slight fusion moves but nothin' to get a cat bothered(no technical profundities, just usin' th'vibes from th'radio as extra input), but th'artschool/soft machine off kilter pop fixations weigh in 'n th'fusion groove is gone...th'k-rock drone smears this with a fazed'n bubbly wobble that pushes th'whole gubbin's further into th'netherworld 'o secret vibrations, only layabouts inclined to be down with forward thinkin' will notice this slide into further-outness, all is not what it may first appear...sandwiched between these outtatime acid rockers is th'intense'n urgent twisted retarded bad attitude that emanates from th'electric eels...noticeable is a popart/autodestruction blowout givin' rise to th'fact that these cats also dig th'sixties more primal crunch fired on by some way tasty moe tucker thump...th' vocals are whiny'n shouty 'n kinda like a less trained stiv bators...th'live trx show that th'high energy intensity shown on th'studio tapes didn't always make it past some stoner riffin' but is still real nice with th'baitin' bad attitude in full effect...all across th'planet pockets o' hepness similar to this was goin' on 'n this is a must for heads who dig th'flow o' true rockin'n avant thought as they weave their way through th' consciousness o' th' cosmic beatnix o' hepsville...
...there come times when a cats gotta alter their whole thinkin' when it comes to th' psychedelic hallucinogenic generation 'n its so called wild sounds that was thought to be a communist plot when really it was mostly just some squares sellin' some product...thats where this biscuit takes up its life, a few studio cats(felix pappalardi/dave bromberg/rusty evans) makin' a coupla bucks pretendin' to be some farout hippy groovers 'n prove to be better than th' real thing(whoever that might be now that everythin' is so mixed up, who are th' cubes 'n who're th' weirded out heads)...here'n there they come on like a collision o' early electric dylan meets zappas freakout 'n then they turn in a folk-pop-on-acid tune'n then its all soundin' like some stoned trance eastern jam on a wayout trip...as with all hep 60s waxin's theres studio manipulation'n stereo pannin' makin' it all wiggy...real or hype/hype or real, th' whole deal is liable to melt perception o' what is fake 'n what is real, is fake itself real, can th' real be faked, it all exists either way or is it all just a business shuck, sometimes a winner sometimes a binner but this fake sure is a winner 'n thats reality...
...th'farm band were part o'th'tennessee farm commune that was lead by original hippy thinker stephen gaskin who'd transplanted 150 freax from northern california to th'bluegrass state,a fairly novel move considerin'' th'politics o' redneck areas like that, not a welcomin' place for a longhaired autonomy in th'early seventies...(th'commune eventually came to number some 1500 hippys which just musta got th'local law pigs in some kinda froth,independence not bein high on th'agenda in th'consumer society)...gaskin himself had been a marine back in th'early 60s'n had first hand experience o' pig mind control'n soul sappin that such an institution needs to function as an (non)effective destroyer force,after which he gravitated to th'haight ashbury just as th'acid was beginnin to flow'n turned on to th'possibilities o' a new life beyond th'town o'squareville...wanderin th'length'n breadth o' san fran durin th'hippy frenzy he spoke o' his philosophy o' free thinkin,away from th'rhetoric o' th'24hour TEEVEE society,back to a more natural state o' self sufficiency,becomin unreliant on th'downpressor madison avenue culture...so when th' commune set up in tennessee they needed their own entertainment'n hence th'band were formed from whoever could rock-on-out...th'jams on this double wax're a mixture o' rural rockin'n lengthier ballroom screetchin with good vibes invocation to 'get on down'...not as flipped out as th'yo ho wha collective but a really nice hour o'back porch psychedelic noodle none th'less,recommended to all layabouts who know th'score,to all wasters who know th'moment is always NOW...
...pharaohs first wax as a leader'n it sees him groovin in a post hard bop style with some freedom o' expression allowed but not as much as could be expected bein on th'trusty'n hepnacious ESP-Disk label,but th'year is 1964'n some bop still makes currency here'n there,tho these're th'fallow years for jazz,th'60s didn't get much into th'jazzbo idiom,it was rather seen as yesterdays music,worse yet music o'th'older generation'n hence square...outside th'confines'n constrictions o' th'commercial hype machine heavy advances were made in th'jazz cellars'n after hours joints where some o' th'more flipped cats would get down with th'modal-free-spirit-drone-splat-jazz but not too many were list'nin,jazz fans hated it,jazz snobs tried to ignore it'n most didn't know o' its existance...these mid 60 times saw even modern genius like miles sellin less than 50,000 copies so cats like pharaoh could hope for maybe 800 if th'moon was in th'right quarter...made up o' side long jams this flows along mighty fine tho some more out-there-ness would been a bonus,this is kinda like pharaoh gettin a foot in th'door,gettin th'feel o' bein in charge...a small groovy fact for cats who dig th'more esoteric side is th'cover drawn by jay dillon from th'godz,nice...
...any layabouts still rememberin' th'hep grooves o'acid rock/avant wirin' put out by these cats(cork marcheschi is th'main visionary here)will know that any biscuits by them will be worth checkin' 'n they wont be disappointed with this hep slab...bein' knocked out in th' mid 90s coulda led to disasterous beat driven/programmed laziness like so many older cats who come back 'n get mixed up in things that aint 'like it used to be in my day', put out gear thats no use to no one...this has got a total smearin' o' mid seven ohs kosmichemusik/hep euroavant goin' on strong 'n with this comes a very nice joe byrd/u.s.a toppin' thats just squiggledee'n groooveee...an incredibly spaced out temporal unbalancin' comes on mighty fine as th' side moves on into stranger territory ...with all this flipcity distortion come a landscape that resembles nothin' less than a fifties B movie full o' monsters both real 'n imaginary deep into alien black 'n white mystic graininess...more than once in amongst th' visions that appear before th' eyes a massive room shakin' power electronics blast issues forth 'n demands a chance to be heard ('n felt)...a coupla times, mostly on th' last trk th' ol' san francisco acid groove pops up(corks somehow also found th' link between 67acidrock 'n 76drugrock from cleveland such as pere ubu/mirrors/tin huey cos this plays as authentic time 'n place definer although neither are that in textural reality but is a perfect example in contextural reality...this is beamin' in from times/places/situations unknown 'n th' list'ner can only appreciate th' greatness o' this trip, th' importance o' this portal o' desirous escape to a land where smoked up bohemian layabouts sit 'n laugh at th' squaredadz goin' about doin' as they're told consumin' their own departure from a reality that is not o' their own makin',but is fast outpacin' th' ol' time tested idea/confidence trick o' hyper reality beloved o' desperate new wave sci-fi peddlers...a goodly waste o' 'an afternoons vibrations 'n indeed any time at all when th' adventurous move in secret circles o' insane belief...connection with th' void is assured 'n th' guarantees dont need to be written coz th' trip is on 'n goin'...
...expansive trancy beatnik vibes from lotti...sorta like gal group pop with copious amounts o' green leaf floatin' through th'studio...shangri-las meet laura nyro could be one way o' lookin' at this but this is way funky with stretched-out urban late six oh soul blasts keepin' this movin'...well cool guitar 'n keyboards 'n when lotti gets to wailin' there sure ain't no stoppin' her...not too many wax have this out-there sure-nuffness goin' on, totally worthwhile lobeful that more than a few heads will get a righton buzz from...
...from th'cover to th'wax itself this says moody galpop'n indeed that is exactly what it is ...yessuh, th'production has murkyness about it that gives off kinda reefer'd outta-time spaciness, obviously unintentional given its geographical location, nashville(bobs '66 affiliation notwithstandin', not a place so known for grooved-out vibrations)...th'session players 'n arrangements does lend this an updated galpop vibe that woulda been real cool if'n a larger budget had been sprung but this came out on a tiny to nonexistant label in '68 when tastes'n audience was changin' fast in th'teen pop arena'n this kinda pop just ain't gonna cut it even in deep-down dixieland...as suggested its th'moodyness that makes this fine-as-wine confection just right for those moments when some clarity may be in order...if'n these gals had gotten over to olde london towne'n managed to stay unaffected by th'continuous swingin' groove/student demos 'n got to work with andyloog (with his harpsichord 'n castanets addin' to th' stew),this woulda turned into somethin' akin to a transcontinental artpop statement that would send vibrational messages to th'far reaches o' th' planet spreadin' th' business o'human happiness...tracks over on side two break into some r'n'b/soulhorn workouts 'n th' last track gonna flip some psych heads...real nice LP, a positive'n goodly addition to late six-oh pop experiments...th'combo split before th' disk hit th'racks due to th'pressure 'o school so th'education establishment won that round in th'war against rocknroll that has continued right up to this here exact minute...
...sometimes th'planets align into a formation that just brings on th'vibe to get down'n dirty with some o' that progressive rock stuff, it cant be helped, sometimes th' punk splatter, blues bashin' just dont cut it'n th' prog is th'only answer...havin' said that its a known thing for all right thinkin' cats to be wary o' th' progressive ones who usually have a tendency to come on pompous'n borin' but treadin' carefully can get th' desired results...steppin' nicely into th'arena o' prog is this waxin' o' nice cool avant squelch recorded over a time frame o' 18 months in th'early 80's somewhere in th'depths o' mind rot down denver way...truely, some might wonder if th'plague had been listenin' to a tad too much francis vincent but theres enough o' their personality on this to keep it real...th'last cut employs 2 poems by some unknown poet that were found in th'trash, which is a hep dada move...
...because they'd been playin 'n recordin' for a couple o' years together this is possibly more composed 'n slightly less chaos 'n splunk than th'first LP, though only in relative terms cos this is still a venom slab 'n there ain't too many with that exact sound, its still full o' thunder, thump 'n thud (plus fun sense o' humor which their copyists missed by a hell o' a yard or more)...goodly amount o' guiar skreachin'n riffin' to keep all rockin' cats happy until its time to spin again...it must be added that rock snobs'n squares will not get th' venom vibe but thats why they're cubed to th' max'n not readin' this...
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