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Mashmakhan

Mashmakhan

Mashmakhan

Epic, 1970

Days When We Are Free

I Know I’ve Been Wrong

As the Years Go By

Shades of Lonliness

Afraid of Losing You

Gladwin

If I Tried

Happy You Should Be

Nature’s Love Song

Letter From Zambia

Mashmakhan is to vocal arrangements what Blood, Sweat, and Tears is to brass- they’re lush, ornate, and complex. Every track melds various song snatches together into one whole being, mostly with jazz undertones. Jazz fusion and psychedelic rock are at the heart of Mashmakhan, the Canadian band’s first album. They would release one more and then call it quits after unsuccessful sales.

Most of the music on this eponymous debut is achingly beautiful and rather dense. This is particularly evident on I Know I’ve Been Wrong, which ends in a huge rave up as bass player Brian Edwards flies up his frets while Rayburn Blake, the lead singer cries out in desperation “Let’s talk it over!” The song takes off after a fairly subdued introduction and angelic vocal part. 

Days When We Are Free opens the album with a frantic groove, the drummer must be sweating keeping it up. This evaporates into a relaxed pace, where a Zappa-esque guitars solo ensues. The haunting block harmonies carry on throughout the song despite its varying parts. The general motif is that at the end of the rainbow we will be free in our mind and body, somehow. While most bands would continue on and use the song as a guitar workout, Mashmakhan ably supplies a narrative to supplement.

At the same time as they rock Mashmakhan can croon through schmaltzy pap like Happy You Should Be about a love affair turned sour. The melody is powered by gentle guitars, lush strings, and brass, and sounds as though it came straight from a Burt Bacharach record.

The album’s only weak link is the filler in the form of a “jazz” jam called Letter From Zambia. It drags on at over six minutes while featuring a vaguely racist tribal sound of rattles and flute soloing in a vain effort to give that exotic vibe it needs. There’s even a few bird calls to add to the mess at the opening of the track. It’s good music for massage therapy and little else. The song doesn’t even touch on Zambia’s political issues (the dictatorship of Hastings Banda), leaving me to believe they picked the state to simply sound exotic.

Even though Mashmakhan underperformed on the charts, it remains one of the hidden gems of 1970. It is one of my favorite albums, and deserves to be bought, despite its low points.

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Day Blindness

Day Blindness

Day Blindness

Studio, 1969

Still Life Girl

Jazz Song

Middle Class Lament

I Got No Money

House and a Dog

Live Deep

Young Girl Blues

Holy Land

Day Blindness are the Doors’ less insidious, more hard-rocking siblings. They cast off the gentle, refined creepiness and the elegant Morrison poetry of the Doors to produce a heavier sound still with emphasis on the mighty Farfisa, Wurlitzer, whatever organ. Day Blindness has an amateur sound and feel, after all their eponymous debut’s cover is drawn in marker (though cooly enough, one band member has the Beatles in the background of his photo on the rear of the cover). Nevertheless, the band forges a path through new territory, combining the riffs and grooves of the James Gang with the organ and cadence of the Doors, with a little Iron Butterfly thrown in. It’s entirely possible all these elements coming together are not coincidental, as Day Blindness were in Los Angeles around the same time the Doors and Iron Butterfly were cutting records. The band follows some of Butterfly’s style by using their songs as blues workouts, which are substantially longer than the psychedelic songs Iron Butterfly put out.

The band’s songs never allude to it, but Day Blindness’ drug use is an apparent point of pride, as the jacket advertises the record as a product “of many trips”, while mysterious potions and smoking joints dot the rear of the cover.

Unlike the Doors, who were never ones for the culture wars of the sixties (though they made the odd political statement), Day Blindness tackles the plasticity of the middle class dream with the song Middle Class Lament. Sounding a bit like the Bonzo Dog Band, another group that poked fun at British middle class morals and attitudes, the protagonist bemoans his dreary life now that he’s settled down and found a job. The band wails away inappropriately heavily behind the vocalist, most likely guitarist Gary Pihl. The organ, played by Felix Bria, the only non-vocalist in the trio (drummer Dave Mitchell sang as well), is always at the center of attention even though there are guitar solos and words to be sung.

Side two demonstrates the band’s imitations of the Doors to a T. Live Deep is the side’s opener, which swings pretty hard (the Doors’ default rhythm) and is sung with a Jim Morrison cadence- velvety, and trailing off at the end. Holy Land is a copy of The End. Built around a hypnotic bass line, it gently builds the track under the soft, smug voice of Gary Pihl. The beginning of the song is a messy jam that goes nowhere eternally, but as if out of thin air, a Latin groove drops down and Pihl begins asking questions of his “mother” and “father”. Sound like familiar motifs? This groove leads to an organ solo that could easily have been one of Ray Manzarek’s.

Day Blindness skimps on both quality and lyrics, preferring drawn out blues jams and guitar solos to actual content. But that doesn’t mean the album is bad- it just doesn’t stand out in a crowded field.

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There's No Hole In My Soul

There’s No Hole In My Soul

The Barry Goldberg Reunion

Buddah, 1968

Sitting In Circles

Hole in My Pocket

It Hurts Me Too

Fool on a Hill

Capricorn Blues

Another Day

Sugar Coated Love

Strung and Younger

I Think I’m Gonna Cry

The Answer’s In Your Head

After leaving the psychedelic blues group The Electric Flag, pianist and organist Barry Goldberg formed his own briefly lived group and continued to play the blues, albeit spicing it up with unusual psychedelic rock songs and a fabulous cover of the Beatles’ Fool on the Hill (misspelled as Fool on a Hill on the album). There’s No Hole In My Soul is the record output for the group, a dense piece of varying styles that has something for everyone. Following Goldberg from the Electric Flag to the Barry Goldberg Reunion is Harvey Mandel on guitar. The album’s cover is a hint to what’s inside: the cover is a jumbled mess of photographs of faces, blending into one another. The album’s songs are a mixed bag as well, often at odds with one another, representing a variety of styles.s

Goldberg’s instrument of choice, the organ, plays heavily on all tracks, occasionally dwarfing the overall sound, but on songs like the lead off track it remains a tasteful accompanier. Sitting In Circles is a masterful, booming number that brings multiple elements to the table. Echo graces the track, filling up the spaces where the organ, strings, guitars, and drums aren’t playing with excess sound. Goldberg moans the lyrics in a rather contemporary fashion, sort of an older John Mayer cum Leonard Cohen. The lyrics are suitably basic, placing the emphasis on the music, which is excellent and just a bit complex. 

Fool on a Hill sounds like a Velvet Underground outtake, though not a word is spoken. Two or three organs come together (Beatle pun unintended) to make a drone that is otherworldly, while drums keep time by soloing faintly in the background. On occasion the drums will serve a more central role to the song, but it’s really all about the organ and guitar duet that functions as the main melody. The song is a Blue Jay Way interpretation of a classic, fuzzy and hazy, barely holding together rhythmically and absolutely delightful. The organ captures the spiral into the clouds that Paul’s vocals carry on the original as he improvises around “round\round\round\oh oh oh”. While slight homage is paid to the original, the Barry Goldberg Reunion is not afraid to push the limit, psychedelic-izing an already trippy song. While the lyrics on other tracks deal with liberation of the mind and riding on rainbows, Fool on a Hill takes credit for being the most psychedelic song on the record. It’s followed by a goofy blues number that hammers shut side one called Capricorn Blues. It’s a bit of astrology rock\blues, as the protagonist struggles to get a date with the proper astrological sign, something Goldberg laments. 

Side two is fairly basic blues and rock, but the final track, a live number called The Answer’s In Your Head is a stirring utopian vision along the lines of We Love You. by the Rolling Stones (“lost within our minds\cos we love you!”) The mind is the best place to method the stresses of social change and of being led and being imprisoned by American corporate society. The band presents a convincing argument for the hippie school of thought, that through experimentation with drugs and less hang ups one can make a revolution, though the radical leftists of the sixties chose to carry out more concrete actions. A rousing Doctor John style piano boogie is attached at the beginning of the track, building up to the introduction of the actual song. The noise of a concert jam fades into a country and western track, Goldberg’s voice soaring over the song, backed up by what sounds like a live audience on joyous cries of “the answer’s in your head!”. The song deals with Goldberg recognizing the potential of mindfulness and liberation just around the corner, while describing the loss of his ego. It’s a joyful celebration of the counterculture, complete with whoops and handclaps, inviting the audience into the musical painting. 

The smiles this album elicits are endless, it’s impossible not to love catchy sing-alongs and full tilt boogie woogie. Sadly, though, this is the only album from the talented bunch that comprised the Barry Goldberg Reunion.

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Quebecois

Quebecois

La Révolution Françaís

Trans-Canada, 1968

Quebecois

Isabelle

L’Amour

Bingo

Shoo Doo Be Doo

Et La Terre Tournera

Pierre-Paul Ladouceur

La Famille

C-Cool

Americas

It’s 1968, and from the smog of Mexico City to the drab decay of the Soviet Bloc revolution is in the air. Guy François and his merry band, La Révolution Françaís, attempt to capture that revolutionary call on their song Quebecois, which lends its name to an album of odds and ends produced for the American market. The band had minor success in French-speaking Canada, with the hit Qubecois, but the management wanted to look outside the country for further triumph, and cobbled together an album made up of songs from the band’s first and second records. The group also re-recorded two songs in English, Et La Terre Tournera became 9 til 5 andQuebecois became the tacky Americas included on the album. Unable to attain many American market sales, the band parted ways after just two records, leaving the Americans with the unusual and catchy record Quebecois.

The opening track is a declaration of independence of sorts from the people of Quebec. 1968 brought pro-secessionism to the province, and La Révolution decided to cash in with the song Quebecois. The lyrics are fairly benign for revolutionary rhetoric: they call upon the people of Quebec, from the mayor (oddly enough) to the Expos to unite, whether red or blue, capitalist or communist, to push for leaving the nation. It’s a rambling exposition of multiple factors. It opens with a gentle, sinister guitar and drum groove, which blossoms into a beautiful string driven line, punctuated by pompous brass, and shaky harmonies. After this, the band drops into a funky groove, repeating “Quebecois!” in falsetto over a churning beat that could easily be sampled in hip hop. This section melds uncomfortably with a marching band that is brought into the song, repeating the main melody, a glockenspiel dinging out the melody loudly and annoyingly. From the cheerful cotton candy world of the marching band passage comes the main Révolution powered section for a final time, marching into the fadeout. The track Americas is identical, but changes the words into a corny tip of the cap to America, with appalling lyrics like “Argentina seems so shiny\California seems so wealthy”. Given that the whole world is revolting against American imperialism, the tribute is ill-placed and takes away the radicalism of the group, if it had any.

La Révolution Françaís also tackles a Beatles-esque number entitled Isabella, which rings with open acoustic guitars, tasteful piano soloing, and impassioned vocals from Francois, the lead vocalist for the band. There’s a mock “bagpipe” cadence at the opening and closing of the track, completely wiping out the beauty of the song in one cruel shave-and-a-haircut introduction and coda.

The other song worth mentioning is side two’s opener, Et La Terre Tournera, a rocky ballad that could use a little more punch, but with whining guitars and heavy drums, is the hardest rocking song on the record. While I can’t begin to interpret the lyrics (as, alas, I speak no French), the song’s title implies the passage of time. The song is over rapidly as well, clocking in at just over two minutes. 

The most interesting track on the album is the jazzy C-Cool, which features various band members singing, whispering, and squeaking over a supple acoustic guitar, mimicking the sort of arty folk popularized by the Beatniks. A sitar solo adds musical color to track cut down to four minutes from the original nine (it was the centerpiece to the group’s first album).

While stocked with run of the mill pop songs that are brief and memorable, Quebecois sports some decent experiments, namely the title track and C-Cool. For what it is, it’s quite excellent.

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Surrealistic Pillow

Surrealistic Pillow

Jefferson Airplane

RCA, 1967

She Has Funny Cars

Somebody To Love

My Best Friend

Today

Comin’ Back to Me

3\5 of a Mile in 10 Seconds

D.C.B.A.-25

How Do You Feel

Embryonic Journey

White Rabbit 

Plastic Fantastic Lover

There have been piles of reviews and analysis of what some consider to be the apex of psychedelic rock, the album Surrealistic Pillow, and I’ll add my name to pile. Pillow finds Airplane at a crossroads. The folk sound is still there, but electric rock is not far behind, creeping into songs like She Has Funny Cars and the fan favorite White Rabbit. The material on Surrealistic Pillow is a combination of Grace Slick’s tracks recorded for the Great Society and their garage psych sound, and Jefferson Airplane’s folky psychedelia. Jefferson Airplane Takes Off is buried under the magnificence of the sound created for Surrealistic Pillow.

Indicative of this style is the pounding rock and roll of Somebody To Love, whose recording is muddied and garage-sounding, but absolutely filled with spunk. Slick points fingers while the rest of the band howls along. Even the guitar solo is fraught with the metallic, slightly frightening sound of the song as a whole, wailing on solitary notes before launching into a more conventional and complex section. Grace’s belting meshes well with the band’s overall sound, and she sounds perfect with the shouted backing vocals. Cymbal crashes punctuate the beginning of each warning “Don’t you want somebody to love?” adding to the well-controlled chaos the song brings to the fore.

As if to confuse the audience Jefferson Airplane jumps from folk rock to acid rock to pop on the first three numbers in the form of My Best Friend, where the Airplane tries out shaky harmonies and a gentle, country swing. Drummer Skip Spence is the mind responsible for this distraction, though he was never a major part of the group. It’s too bad, his pop sensibilities are golden, but it’s just not the right band to pull them off.

Just to shake things up, Airplane places an instrumental on side two, the pretty Embryonic Journey. Graced with ringing acoustic guitars, the song sounds as though it belongs in the Loggins and Messina catalog and not the Jefferson Airplane catalog. It’s incredibly brief, only about two minutes, but it serves to set up a mellow introduction for the band’s hit White Rabbit. The message behind White Rabbit is not a promotion of drug use, but a recognition of drug use in popular literature, as Slick winds her way through the surrealist visions of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. The song’s climax is easily its best part. As the band thunders as one through the final chord changes, Slick belts out the famous lines: “Remember!\what the door mouse said\feed your head!” in a gorgeous display of vocal power. The band grinds to a halt like an-out-of-breath runner, the final ugly chord hanging out ever-so-briefly in space. 

There are plenty of other noteworthy songs on the album, some of them vague protests of consumer culture (Plastic Fantastic Lover) and others hymns to the power of drugs (3\5 of a Mile in 10 Seconds). Overall, it’s a solid sophomore effort that checks a lot of boxes when it comes to summarizing the sound of San Francisco and its lovable hippies and dropouts. There are few records that can do better.

After Bathing At Baxter’s emerges next, sort of a more drugged up clone of Surrealistic Pillow, but the band quickly follows the cultural trends of the sixties, abandoning folk elements for a hard rock feel that underpins the band’s less highly regarded, but more fun, work.

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In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida

In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida

Iron Butterfly

ATCO, 1968

Most Anything You Want

Flowers and Beads

My Mirage

Termination

Are You Happy

In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida

Iron Butterfly is one of many bands in late 1968 modifying the psychedelic sound into a heavier form, one that would give bands like Argent and Led Zeppelin a start. New members of the group included 17 year old Bostonian Erik Brann on guitar, and Lee Dorman on bass guitar. In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida picks up where Heavy left off, despite having new members who could potentially bring a new sound to the group. Vida came out in the later half of 1968, with one side of fairly basic psychedelic pop and rock songs, and another side consisting solely of a 17 minute epic whose title is borrowed for the name of the album. 

After the heaviness of the opening track, Almost Anything You Want, the band suddenly collapses into a more trendy version of Spanky and Our Gang for the insipid Flowers and Beads.This shift demonstrates versatility, but not much talent. Musically the band is adept, indulging in ornate and occasionally complex tracks, but lyrically their songs fall a bit flat. Flowers indulges in a bit of fawning and adulation over a love to a gentle swing, with their trademark organ protruding in annoyingly. The band is almost too heavy to be as tender as the song calls for, the restraint sounds incredibly forced. The ending is the most worthwhile part to the track, where for the first time the band tries out higher vocals and harmonies, as the organ toodles away into oblivion, ending on a final beautiful note. The excellent, gorgeous ending is overshadowed by how cheesy the song is, and by its placement on the album itself. Had Flowers and Beads closed side one, it would have been given more of a chance to shine. Instead the accusatory Are You Happy pounds the album’s first half shut. Out of the gentle whispers of wind chimes at the end of Termination, Are You Happy emerges somewhat unexpectedly. A strong drum fill beckons in the organ, and Ingle’s booming “Are you happy?” as the track gets under way. The song is split in two by a jam, a nod to the things to come on side two. As the interlude finishes the band wails back into the main theme, sounding a little progressive as they do so. The band is as tight as they ever were as they hurtle towards the finish.

Along with Smoke on the Water and Satisfaction (I Can’t Get No), In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida boasts one of the most well known riffs of all time- it’s the riff that sold an otherwise uneventful psychedelic record. Never mind that Doug Ingle sounds like Christopher Lloyd trying to impersonate Elvis, look past the “too drunk too sing properly” title creation story, forget the jam on Are You Happy- this song rocks hard and pushes the organ to its limits (and its maximum potential). The song opens with the heavy riff pounding its way into your brain, before quickly collapsing into solos, of which Ron Bushy’s is best. Bushy launches a tight, funky rhythm while the whole band lays out, letting the drummer work his hi-hat and bass drum into a solid groove. Eventually the jamming is over and the main drumbeat is restored and the organ fades back in, playing like a mysterious Catholic Church hymn- even hitting a few church-y melodies for effect. Annoying string scrapes break up this section of the jam, and Bushy returns to his previous solo pattern. They jam over this until Ingle counts back in with all the force he can muster, dropping an atom bomb on the peaceful, holy quiet of the solo section, which mushrooms slowly back into the main riff. 

Iron Butterfly created one of the best selling albums in the world with In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, and went on to cut the similar Ball, before embarking on a 70’s journey fraught with lack of success (compared to their late 60’s zenith). All in all, Iron Butterfly will most likely be remembered for their 17 minute monster, and rightfully so. Their music is good, but it doesn’t stand out in a crowded market of Jimi Hendrix and the Who.

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Heavy

Heavy

Iron Butterfly

First\ATCO, 1968

Possession

Unconscious Power

Get Out of my Life Woman

Gentle As It May Seem

You Can’t Win

So-Lo

Look For the Sun

Fields of Sun

Stamped Ideas

Iron Butterfly Theme

Just as Cream did in Great Britain, Iron Butterfly in America combined surrealistic imagery from folk rock with the hard sound of blues rock revivals into a seamless, organ driven psychedelic rock.

The opening track, Possession, has a reverential feel, with brooding organ and humming bass, though the song quickly blossoms into a catchy riff that dissolves occasionally into a half time swung section. Possession is sung calmly and most sinisterly, as though vocalist Doug Ingle is some sort of Gollum lusting after the Ring. Possession sounds maniacal and obsessed, which is how a song with such a title ought to sound. The track winds into Unconscious Power whose organ and guitar lines are often in tandem, a unique and complex technique a few years ahead of its time.

Blues rock makes an appearance on tracks like Get Out of my Life Woman, a straight blues, and Look For the Sun, while pop music would be the best way to describe You Can’t Win.

The side’s closer is a perhaps the album’s most commercial, evoking the Moody Blues in its delivery. You Can’t Win has two main musical sections, the main, highly catchy riff, and a secondary part that accompanies the lines “destruction is the only road you’re headed for\There isn’t any road behind those steel doors”. The section is moody and chilling, as though the band has seen the destruction and lack of a future following the path described. Like the Moody Blues, Butterfly has no higher vocal ranges, and so the unison lines are a pleasing mid-range, not quite tenor and not quite bass.

The first track on side two balances the elements of the band’s title. It combines a gentle, trickling organ, and a restrained but complex drumbeat (the butterfly portion) with swirling vocal arrangements and a strong, squealing lead guitar (the iron portion). Despite their label as proto-metal, Butterfly can alit on any flower it chooses in the musical garden and play any number with tact and grace, as So-Lo demonstrates. A tinkle of wind chimes and warm rolling cymbals open and close the track, as though the listener is endeavoring on some kind of mystic journey, one must cut through the tinkling to the core of the song.

Vocally, Iron Butterfly experiments with two styles- one a mumbled pre-metal grunt (think a less manic Lemmy) and the other an angelic oohing and aahing. Both styles are evident on Fields of the Sun.

Lyrically, Iron Butterfly has a lot of room to grow, but their musicianship is on par, and they deliver a Vanilla Fudge-esque listening experience without the endless covers. Iron Butterfly continues on much the same trajectory for their sophomore effort, In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, though progressive elements begin to creep into their sound. The changed nature of the band’s sound may have something to do with the fact that one half of the group quit after Heavy was cut, leaving Iron Butterfly to scramble for new members.

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Future Games

Future Games

Fleetwood Mac

Reprise, 1971

Woman of 1000 Years

Morning Rain

What A Shame

Future Games

Sands of Time

Sometimes

Lay It All Down

Show Me A Smile

Fleetwood Mac’s fifth album is a hearty dose of what Jefferson Airplane would have sounded like had they kept going, producing consistent material. The album barely rocks, being imbued with a relaxing sound and a soft rock feel.

The mellowness is exemplified by the lead off track, which is so dreary and relaxed it could be a song from the band America as it flows through its paces, driven by acoustic guitar. Woman of 1000 Years is indicative of the album as a whole, which, when it does rock, rocks only slightly. What follows is a generic pop song, Morning Rain, and a beautiful instrumental track entitled What A Shame. Shame made it onto the album because Reprise would not release an album with just seven tracks, so an eighth was introduced in the form of a brief, well-orchestrated instrumental that segues neatly into the album’s title track, Future Games. 

Future Games is a fusion of elements that comes together gorgeously, especially at the song’s end. The lead vocals enter after a brief Neil Young style guitar solo and are nearly swallowed up by their surroundings. The harmonies, when sung, are sweet and cut through the track like a hot knife through butter, however. Bob Welch, one of the band’s guitarists, is credited with both penning this epic song, and is also credited with singing it. There’s plenty of reverb added to Mick Fleetwood’s drums, creating a much bigger sound, which accents supple electric guitar solos after the first verse and chorus. The guitar solo echoes the refrain of “future games” beautifully.  There’s even an organ plodding out two chord changes under further solos, which gets buried in the mix as the track climaxes for its finish, a booming swirl of vocals, guitar, drums, and keyboards. Overall, this beautiful, never-ending track redeems the otherwise uninteresting first half of the record.

Lay It All Down is a fusion of Steve Miller Band soulful pop and scorching, Hendrix-esque guitar playing (think a vague nod to the riff at the heart of Crosstown Traffic). The song is an encouraging reinterpretation of packing up your troubles in your old kit bag sentiment, but throwing in some biblical references for good measures. The song also takes a turn for the Rolling Stones’ Can’t You Hear Me Knocking, with a jammed out ending with off-beat pulses made through guitar stabs. The song does not sound particularly like anything they ever did before, and points a direction towards future records like Penguin and Mystery to Me.

The album’s final track (Show Me A Smile) may as well be tailor-written for Joni Mitchell. McVie carries her vocals admirably, managing to emote very similar to Mitchell, while the backing band flutters through a heavy acoustic sound that’s downright ethereal. The song closes similar to how it began, slipping quietly out the back door with a hum and a cymbal crash.

While Fleetwood Mac may have abandoned their blues roots to cut Future Games, the direction towards pop music the group is taking is redemption enough. Their music is complex and beautiful, helped along by the keyboards and vocals of Christine McVie, and later to be replaced with the capable, but unusual vocals of one Ms. Stevie Nicks.