Mr. Flood's Party - Mr. Flood's Party 1969

As one of the last truly great psychedelic albums of the 1960s, the eponymous debut (and only) LP by Mr. Flood's Party remains an exquisite listening experience more than 40 years after its was unleashed upon a generally unresponsive record-buying public. Although its intermingling of various musical styles in an experimental fashion was no longer a novelty by this point in the decade, it achieves a grandeur that few other contemporary releases achieve due largely to the group's considerable vocal and instrumental talents. There were still a lot of great mind-expanding records coming out in 1969 even if psychedelia was approaching the end of its commercial rope, and Mr. Flood's Party definitely qualifies as one of them.

An aura of obscurity continues to surround the group due to a scarcity of information about them, a somewhat surprising situation considering that they were signed to major-label Atlantic subsidiary Cotillion and apparently hailed from Long Island in New York. The personnel consisted of Tom Castagnaro, Michael Corbett, Jay Hirsch, Rick Mirage, Marcel Thompsen, and Freddy Toscano, although I cannot locate much in the way of details about what instruments they played. A Myspace page (remember those?) respectively identifies Catagnaro and the Dutch-born Thompsen as a drummer and guitarist and describes some of the other members (the "two 'Principal's'" [sic]) as college professors! Corbett and Hirsch (the rocking academicians?) probably handled a significant amount of the vocals since they would later record an album with guitarist Hugh McCracken on which their singing has been favorably compared with Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young. According to one source, Toscano subsequently functioned as a singer, guitarist, and keyboardist in the little-known mid-1970s band Frogs, and it is quite possible that he served in the same capacity with Mr. Flood's Party. While these two aforementioned offshoots have their musical virtues, neither of them bear much of a resemblance to the band that recorded the subject of this review.

A late 60's psych band naming itself after a poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson? They would either become the darling of college campuses.  This curio is a strange but pleasing mix of CS&N type harmony (most notable on the song "Deja Vu," which is not to be confused with the CSN&Y tune) and most any overwrought psych band of the era. Add a dash of Zappa; the band wasn't averse to drifting off into tongue-in-cheek chant ("Tangerine...tangerine...kiss my tangerine...") or mocking the "Evil Prince of Darkness" with saucy lyrics and a dash of doo-wop.
The best song is the shortest, probably the only one that might've had a shot at being a single. Not a hit single, but a single. It's "Simon J. Stone," which is the only song on the album that references Tilbury Town, where Edwin Arlington Robinson's characters lived in their anguish, chagrins and occasional glory. "Simon J. Stone, you're a good man, what is there left for a good man?" Or an obscure 60's psych band that put an old man on the cover of their album years before "Aqualung."

So what does Mr. Flood's Party sound like? As with quite a few albums recorded circa 1966-1969, it is a very eclectic affair and displays a great number of influences including guitar-intensive West Coast psych, orchestrated baroque rock, and harmony-vocal-heavy British Invasion groups to name but a few. The record boasts impressive production standards as well as effects supplied by what sounds like a Moog or Mellotron synthesizer and a Leslie amplifier, while the songs range from delightfully weird hard rock tunes to exquisitely crafted exercises in mind expansion. Even though some critics claim that an overabundance of musical variety prevented Mr. Flood's Party from establishing a concrete musical identity as a band, I beg to differ and believe that their lone effort should be recognized as a challenging and multilayered work that will reward the listener with repeated spins on his or her turntable. Not that I necessarily advocate such things, but indulging in some mind-altering drugs will probably make this record even easier to appreciate. A discernible feeling of sadness pervades much of the album, which should not come as a surprise since the group's name is derived from "Mr. Flood's Party," a piece by the notedly gloomy American poet Edwin Arlington Robinson. (I assume the cover artwork depicts the drunken old sod Mr. Flood himself.) That's not to suggest that Mr. Flood's Party the LP should be considered a tearjerker, although it's certainly an introspective listening experience since the songs explore much of the same thematic territory as Robinson's works. Some of the tracks have an engaging schizophrenic quality to them, in particular "Northern Travel" (an LSD metaphor?) and "Deja Vu," which sound as if they were constructed from several different songs and glued together with psychedelic paste. Wailing lead guitar, soaring strings, and heavenly vocals grace "Advice," while "Prince of Darkness" finds the band sounding somewhat like an East Coast equivalent to the West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to my ears. The delicate but not overly-precious "Simon J. Stone" features more gorgeous harmony singing in addition to lyrics that could pass for one of Robinson's own poems. The Moog showcase "Stanley's Tea" finds Mr. Flood's Party at their most Anglophonic, while "The Liquid Invasion," with its searing lead guitar work, is just as psychedelic as its title implies. The dreamy "Garden of the Queen" returns the band to British-inspired material and intentionally or not comes off as something resembling psych folk. "Mind Circus," the complex closing track, can best be described as a musical interpretation of someone's descent into madness, concluding with a haunting fadeout that will stay with you for days.

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The Mugwumps - The Mugwumps 1967

The Mugwumps sole album -- not issued until well after the principal members had achieved fame in other groups -- is a quilt of pop, folk-rock, and R&B tunes with an awkward, unfinished feel. A glimmer of the folk-rock that would flower in 1965-1966 is evident in the tender ballad "Here It Is Another Day," an Elliot-Hendricks original. But the covers of the Coasters and Bo Diddley are substandard, and some of the other tracks are uneasy collisions of New York pop and Merseybeat. There's not much evidence to indicate the Mugwumps would have developed into anything special, though it has its historical interest, particularly to fans of the Lovin' Spoonful and the Mamas & the Papas. AMG.

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Strawberry Alarm Clock - The World In A Sea Shell 1968

The third long-player from Strawberry Alarm Clock runs the gamut of pop music. This unfortunately detracts from the album's cohesion instead of unifying it. As with their previous release Wake Up...It's Tomorrow, The World in a Sea Shell offers a few criminally overlooked tracks. However, for the most part, the contents vacillate between the saccharine sweetness of the mid-tempo opening track "Sea Shell" and the overly orchestrated "An Angry Young Man" and "Home Sweet Home." Any cohesive momentum from the first two LPs has seemingly been discarded for the external input of different writers. Increasingly, the band began to turn externally for material. This was partially due to pressures from producers Bill Holmes and Frank Slay, who brought in Roy Freeman to write lyrics for the band because -- in the words of bassist and composer George Bunnell -- "they thought we were awful at it." Contributions also come from the somewhat unlikely team of Carole King and Toni Stern. "Blues for a Young Girl Gone" and "Lady of the Lake" are akin to the stuff the pair was concurrently writing for the likes of the Monkees. Both suffer the double-edged sword of having such a strong voice written into them. They end up sounding more like the Mike Curb Congregation than any of the other material on the disc. Saving the album are the kitschy "Barefoot in Baltimore," as well as the lost rock & roll masterpiece "Love Me Again" -- a spirited number that could easily be mistaken for a discarded Buffalo Springfield track. The latter features the return of the classic Strawberry Alarm Clock noir vibe -- replete with haunting vocal harmonies, over-amped fuzz guitar leads, and harpsichord-drenched accents that drive the tune front to back. The fitting "Eulogy" is a final group effort and draws on the same strengths as "Pretty Song from Psych-Out" and "The Curse of the Witches" from Wake Up...It's Tomorrow. AMG.

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Pazop - Psychillis Of A Lunatic Genius 1972-73

The Belgian progressive rock group Pazop had the misfortune of never being able to release the two albums they recorded in the early '70s, and this CD gathers up most of those tracks, excluding four tracks that were far more commercial than the group's normal sound. As might be expected from a group of musicians who are equally adept at jazz, rock, and classical music, Pazop's sound is a highly complex mix of King Crimson, Canterbury, and even RIO styles filtered through a more continental Europe sensibility, with lots of flute, keyboard, and violin soloing, and fast change-ups. Fortunately they play with enough energy that one doesn't even notice the lack of an electric guitar. There are also some other little touches: sounds of breaking glass on the first version of "Harlequin of Love," lunatic laughter followed by a brief campy riff of Offenbach in "And the Hermit Will Be a Master," whereas "Bami, Lychee, Si" has a humorous and jazzy lightness that recalls everything from early Frank Zappa to Moving Gelatin Plates, and the very short "In the Army" is even more quirky and hilarious. Most pieces have vocals sung by flutist Dirk Bogaert in a gruff voice in a strangely accented English that matches the angular edges of many of the compositions. Excellent stuff throughout; Pazop has the chops of the best early-'70s prog rockers, but without the bombast. AMG.

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The Spencer Davis Group - Funky 1969

Although it was recorded in 1969, this album was not released at the time (although a few were circulated in the US in 1971 before it was withdrawn due to contractual reasons). By the late 1960s the band were firmly under the creative direction of Ray Fenwick, who played lead guitar, sang lead vocals, and wrote all of the songs. Needless to say it was such a change from the Stevie Winwood days that it was in essence an entirely different group, playing competent but faceless period music that echoed trends in country-rock, Traffic-like soul-progressivism ("What a Way to Die"), and heavy blues. The CD reissue has ten bonus tracks from the same era, taken from TV and radio sessions, studio outtakes, and a live recording from the 1967-68 era. These have a slightly more interesting, though not very distinctive, psychedelic-pop air; all of them, however, were previously released on RPM's Taking Out Time compilation. AMG.

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Scott McKenzie - The Voice Of Scott McKenzie 1967

There was more to Scott McKenzie than "San Francisco," though this album came out so long after that single peaked on the charts that few people ever bothered to buy it. There's nothing here quite like the title song, and none of the rest captures a magical mood or moment the way that the single did, though there is some very pretty music. McKenzie's rendition of Donovan's "Celeste" has a languid beauty, while his version of John Sebastian and Zal Yanovsky's "It's Not Time Now" is a more standard, rhythmic folk-rock piece. For reasons perhaps best known to himself, however,McKenzie's voice doesn't have as much range or flexibility on those two numbers as it seemed to show on "San Francisco." But when he does one of his originals, his expressiveness blooms, and he stays fairly strong on all of the rest. That includes Tim Hardin's "Reason to Believe" (one of the better renditions that song has ever received) and "No, No, No, No, No," a hook-laden piece about sexual pursuit and frustration with an exquisite orchestral accompaniment behind a lean, punchy acoustic band sound; and Hardin's haunting, cautionary "Don't Make Promises." Still, the songs that McKenzie does best here are the John Phillips-authored works -- beyond the title cut, those include "Like an Old Time Movie" and "Twelve-Thirty." The latter has a poignancy here that the more familiar version by the Mamas & the Papas misses; one gets the illusion of a personal confessional, so closely does McKenzie seem to embrace the lyric. Some of his singing is still a bit too bland, but overall this would have been a promising first effort, had McKenzie been of more of a mind to follow it up quickly. The album was later repackaged in England as San Francisco, with a different song order, and has been reissued by Sony U.K. under that title. AMG.

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Tommy James & The Shondells - I Think We're Alone Now 1967

"I Think We're Alone Now" was the first Top Five hit for Tommy James since his 1966 chart-topper "Hanky Panky," and a redemption of sorts for/from the album that came in between, the sugary It's Only Love. Ritchie Cordell is in total control here, writing the first eight songs on the disc, including all three that charted: "I Think We're Alone Now," the exquisite "Mirage," and "I Like the Way." The album cover is brilliant, total black with two pairs of feet taking two steps forward, then one pair turning around and facing the other; neither person is wearing shoes. The tension of the opening guitar and bass riff coupled with the great melody and theme make for an all-time rock & roll classic. It's more "hanky panky" in theme, "Hanky Panky" all grown up. "Mirage" opens side two and it is a brilliant sequel to "I Think We're Alone Now," with similar structure but enough production tricks to make the songs sound different. The harpsichord from side one's "Trust Each Other in Love" is used again in "Mirage" to great effect, while the underlying riff in "Trust Each Other in Love" also borrows from the title track. Co-produced by Bo Gentry and Cordell, with the ever-present Jimmy Wisner arranging and conducting, the album features the band and production team working as a cohesive unit to solidify Tommy James' foundation on pop radio. There's a credible cover of the Rivieras' 1964 hit "California Sun," as well a short and nicely chaotic rendition of the Isley Brothers' perennial "Shout." James' voice and personality carry the record and Cordell continues rewriting the title track with "Run, Run, Baby, Run," inverting the inspired riff. He and the singer then compose "(Baby, Baby) I Can't Take It No More," which has the feel of the Rascals' "I Ain't Gonna Eat out My Heart Anymore," while "Gone, Gone, Gone" sounds like Ritchie Cordell was listening to Pennsylvania's Eddie Rambeau or U.K. group Unit 4 + 2's "Concrete and Clay." There are plenty of flavors from the day slipped into this wonderful mix, a true pop concoction that has stood the test of time. In concert both "Mirage" and "I Think We're Alone Now" are major moments; James' hit material over the years contained a rich variety of composition. This album is Ritchie Cordell's vision for Tommy James and is an important and highly entertaining piece of the Shondells' catalog. AMG.

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The Carolyn Hester Coalition - The Carolyn Hester Coalition 1968

Carolyn Hester had been away from the recording scene for a few years when she re-emerged in the late 1960s as the centerpiece of the Carolyn Hester Coalition, a psychedelic- and folk-tinged rock group. It's hard to read this as anything but an attempt to keep up with the times on the part of someone who missed the boat that made folk and folk-rock a commercial proposition. Purism aside, this unexpected move wasn't a bad thing; Hester wasn't the greatest or most original folksinger anyway, so why not try something different? Her voice is still thin and almost unnaturally high, although not unappealingly so, on both rocked-up versions of folk songs she probably sang acoustically at one point ("East Virginia," "Let's Get Together") and tunes that are closer to fairly commercial psychedelic folk-rock. It's not the most organic combination, with trendy fuzz guitars flitting in and out of the arrangements from time to time. It's not bad, though, and the brooding cover of Ed McCurdy's anti-war song "Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream" is an effective interpretation of a significant composition that was overlooked by other folk-rock acts. Indeed the album, on that track and others, is more downcast than might be expected, Hester moaning at one point "half the world is starving, half the world is overfed, half take sleeping pills at night, half don't have a bed." AMG.

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West, Bruce & Laing - Why Dontcha 1972

Three years after Blind Faith, and two years after the zoo that was Ginger Baker's Air Force -- Denny Laine essentially replacing Eric Clapton in Blind Faith with six more musicians added for good measure -- Jack Bruce mixes the blues of Cream with the hard rock of Mountain while the label gave them maybe a third of the Blind Faith hype. The verdict?West, Bruce & Laing's Why Dontcha has aged gracefully as an authentic signature of what these artists were doing, but it lacks the staying power of Blind Faith, the fault being the choice of material. There is no "Theme from an Imaginary Western" here, there is no "Sea of Joy," just a relentless hard rock assault best exemplified by the track "Shake Ma Thing (Rollin Jack)." Here Leslie West and Jack Bruce share vocals, so you get Mountain-meets-Cream, but where they played "Sunshine of Your Love" in concert, there is no riff that awesome here. And that's all it would have taken, a great riff and tune to carry this project from point A to point B. "While You Sleep" shows this wild bunch as creative and having fun, and it's a great album track, but not the thing to find them a new audience. The title tune, "Why Dontcha," is pure Leslie West, but it doesn't reinvent Mississippi Queen, and these gentlemen had to pull a rabbit or two out of their hats. If anyone doubts Jimmy Miller's ability to make a record album rock, just listen to his protégéAndy Johns fail to follow in his mentor's footsteps. Miller had three days to put Blind Faith together after months ofSteve Winwood and Clapton trying not to step on each other's toes, and he came back for part two, the Royal Albert Hall concert that became Ginger Baker's Air Force. Why Dontcha, on the other hand, despite the pluses, falls short because it tries too hard, while not putting the effort where it belonged -- in the songwriting and production. Bet these great talents wish they had this moment in time back. If these were ex-Grand Funk Railroad members Flint, this would be a great record. It falls far short of what Jack Bruce, Corky Laing, and Leslie West were capable of.

In an interview with Corky Laing, that legendary quote from Flo & Eddie was brought to his attention -- their opinion thatMountain keyboard player Steve Knight was "the most useless man in rock & roll." Laing quickly came to Knight's defense and said that he played rhythms that were essential to Mountain. A Steve Knight on keyboards, or even better, a Steve Winwood, was what was needed to bring West, Bruce & Laing to another level, maybe even to superstar status. Cream's vocalist brought that hit potential to the table. The sleeper track on the album is "Love Is Worth the Blues," with Leslie West on violin, guitar, and a suitably painful downtrodden vocal, while "Pollution Woman" is, finally, what everyone was waiting for: Cream-meet- Mountain, with Jack Bruce on synthesizer and vocals, Leslie West andJack Bruce on acoustic guitars, and a brilliantly solid Corky Laing. This was the direction they should have taken, and there just isn't enough of it -- a wildly charging modern sound that elevates the whole, proving it could be greater than the sum of its parts. AMG.

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Tom Jones - Live at Caesar's Palace 1971

For many acts, the casino circuit is the kiss of death creatively, but in the case of Tom Jones the exact opposite is true -- amidst the neon lights, craps tables, and slot machines, he's at the top of his game, feeding on the energy and excitement to command the stage with a power and eroticism that are virtually unmatched. Recorded in Las Vegas in the spring of 1971, Live at Caesar's Palace -- his tenth and final gold record -- captures Jones at his bawdy best, offering a compelling mix of hits and covers while still managing to make time with the ladies between songs; riding high on the recent success of "She's a Lady," he also samples smashes like "It's Not Unusual" and "Delilah" in addition to a vast range of material spanning from "Soul Man" to "Bridge Over Troubled Water" to "My Way." The between-song stage patter is priceless as well -- for fans, this is an essential set. AMG.

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Harold Vick - Don't Look Back 1974

One of jazz's great unsung saxophonists, Harold Vick can be placed in a category with the likes of Booker Ervin, David "Fathead" Newman, Wilton Felder, and James Clay -- hard-toned, aggressive, funky tenorists who placed an emphasis on the blues even as they embodied state-of-the-art bop-derived modernism. Although he led relatively few recording dates, Vick was held in high regard by other leaders, especially such '60s-era soul-jazz organists asBrother Jack McDuff, Jimmy McGriff, Shirley Scott, and Big John Patton. Vick also performed and recorded with many noted R&B and jazz vocalists, including Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin, Ashford & Simpson, Angela Bofill, Abbey Lincoln, and Lena Horne.

Vick was born in the same small North Carolina town -- Rocky Mount -- as pianist Thelonious Monk (his elder by 20 years). Vick started playing music at the age of 13 when his uncle Prince Robinson (a highly regarded tenor saxophonist who played with Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, McKinney's Cotton Pickers, and others during the '20s and '30s) gave him a clarinet. At 16 Vick took up the tenor and soon after began playing in R&B bands. In the '50sVick moved to Washington, D.C., and studied psychology at Howard University. He continued to play, mostly with R&B bands.

His work with such organists as McDuff and McGriff began attracting attention. By the mid-'60s, Vick was leading his own groups, featuring such players as trumpeter Blue Mitchell and guitarist Grant Green. In 1963, he recorded his first album as a leader, Steppin' Out!, for the Blue Note label. Between 1966 and 1974 he led dates for the RCA, Muse, and Strata East labels. In 1972 he recorded with Jack DeJohnette's band Compost, one of the drummer's first efforts at leading a band.

By the mid-'70s Vick had essentially stopped recording as a leader. His career as a sideman flourished, however. He continued working with organists Scott and McGriff, singers Franklin and Charles, Dizzy Gillepie's big band, and with R&B acts both in the studio and on the road. Shortly before his death in 1987, Vick recorded a pair of Billie Holidaytributes with singer Abbey Lincoln for the enja label. In 1998 Sonny Rollins paid tribute to Vick by composing and recording a tune titled "Did You See Harold Vick?" AMG.

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Leon Russell - Leon Russell 1969

Leon Russell never quite hit all the right notes the way he did on his eponymous debut. He never again seemed as convincing in his grasp of Americana music and themes, never again seemed as individual, and never again did his limited, slurred bluesy voice seem as ingratiating. He never again topped his triptych of "A Song for You," "Hummingbird," and "Delta Lady," nor did his albums contain such fine tracks as "Dixie Lullaby." Throughout it all, what comes across is Russell's idiosyncratic vision, not only in his approach but in his very construction -- none of the songs quite play out as expected, turning country, blues, and rock inside out, not only musically but lyrically. Yes, his voice is a bit of an acquired taste, but it's only appropriate for a songwriter with enough chutzpah to write songs of his own called "I Put a Spell on You" and "Give Peace a Chance." And if there ever was a place to acquire a taste forRussell, it's here. AMG.

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Laura Nyro - Eli And The Thirteenth Confession 1968

Nyro peaked early, and Eli and the Thirteenth Confession, just her second album, remains her best. It's not only because it contains the original versions of no less than three songs that were big hits for other artists: "Sweet Blindness" (covered by the 5th Dimension), "Stoned Soul Picnic" (also covered by the 5th Dimension), and "Eli's Comin'" (done by Three Dog Night). It's not even just because those three songs are so outstanding. It's because the album as a whole is so outstanding, with its invigorating blend of blue-eyed soul, New York pop, and early confessional singer/songwriting. Nyro sang of love, inscrutably enigmatic romantic daredevils, getting drunk, lonely women, and sensual desire with an infectious joie de vivre. The arrangements superbly complemented the material with lively brass, wailing counterpoint backup vocals, and Nyro's own ebullient piano. The 2002 CD reissue adds three previously unreleased demos, with no instrumental accompaniment save piano, of "Lu," "Stoned Soul Picnic," and "Emmie." AMG.

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