Anyone who picked up the McCoys' third album, 1968's Infinite McCoys, expecting a set of R&B-flavored garage rock in the manner of their 1965 hit "Hang on Sloopy" was doubtless very confused once they got two or three minutes into the opening cut, a meandering psychedelic exercise called "Faces" replete with overdubbed mumbling and goofy sound effects, and the brassy sway of "Jesse Brady" and the low-key piano jazz exercise "Resurrection" which followed certainly didn't help reassure puzzled listeners. Infinite McCoys doesn't have much to do with rock & roll at all, certainly not in it's garage-centric form, but there's no arguing that the McCoys threw themselves into the task of reinventing themselves with tremendous enthusiasm. Everything on Infinite McCoys is played with passion and genuine skill; the band's chops are impressive throughout (especially Bob Peterson's keyboards and the guitar work from Rick Zehringer, later known as Rick Derringer), and the songs display a greater intelligence and eclecticism than one might expect, running the gamut from the country-influenced "Rose Rodriguez," to the delicate pop melody of "Song for Janie," the melodramatic homage to S&M of "He Likes It," and the avant-garde soundscape "Hell." But while Infinite McCoys made it clear this band was capable of far more than cranking out teen dance fodder, the album's stylistic breadth prevents it from achieving a much needed focus, and though the album's technique is remarkable, it's never as interesting as it wants to be and the whole exercise becomes a chore to listen to by the time the easy listening pastiche "Union City Waltz" comes to a close. Infinite McCoys was a brave and doubtless necessary step for the McCoys, but the whole is decidedly less than the sum of its parts. AMG.listen here
FR
/ USA
/ UK
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário