Using the trippy, folky rock of Jefferson Airplane and eerie, organ-driven soundscapes as a foundation, the Bow Street Runners may not have many original ideas in their head, but that's part of their appeal. Their lone, eponymous album is filled with attempts at hippie mysticism and menacing, swirling fuzzy psychedelia, yet the group has neither the inclination or the talent to turn it into something original. Nevertheless, the group is somewhat distinctive in the ways its attempts fail -- "Spunky Monkey" is an aimless and slightly ridiculous blues jam, "Eating from a Plastic Hand" has a silly, ominous minor-key melody and, best of all, "Watch" sounds like Ringo Starr fronting the Doors. It doesn't make for good or provocative music, but as a late-'60s artifact, it's fascinating. AMG.