The Far Cry • The Far Cry (Vanguard/Apostolic, 1969)

As the year comes to a close, and I look back at the various excavations that I have been lucky enough to benefit from; The Czalak Minor Temple wall paintings proving the Empire of Alzatho was a contemporary, or the left foot of that fearsome beast washed ashore twenty million years after it's extinction on Long Island Sound, none come close to my discovery of The Far Cry's lone LP.

How this inventive a band has escaped the books is beyond me! Even though there are some musical reference points; The dreaded Grateful Dead, or Paul Butterfield Blues Band, it's the crazed vocals of Jere Whiting that almost steal the show. To the untrained ear, you would think him a poor Van Vliet, but where the Captain's voice is a organic part of the sound of the Magic Band, Whiting's is a shrill non put on insanity, contrary to the polish of the band. I could not imagine anyone else fronting the group. A lesser visionary would no doubt be tempted to slick up the singing, and turn this into a B level Blood, Sweat, & Tears. Thank God for Jere. He shrieks, yells, misses cues, and even gives the Sax player a run for his money, and it works. On the one track he doesn't emote on, the instrumental Earthlight, The Far Cry employ the same loping back beat that the Dead use. Yet where the Dead go on full snooze, emulating a muzak version of Take Five for the hippies, The Far Cry it's an aggressive affair. Tight playing and a heavy Sax way up front. Best of all, in 1969 when most musicians overstayed their welcome the moment they tuned up, the whole thing is done under four minutes.

Please click on the review title for selected track: Midnight Juice

Ultimate Spinach • Ultimate Spinach (MGM, 1968)

Visiting old friends. Every one has done it, and more often than not you walk away remembering why you stopped talking to them...such was the case with an old associate, Dr. Hajro. We were friendly rivals in Medical School. He was forever peering into his microscope trying to look further and further into the heart of the small. After a while his perception of the world was based on the micro cosmos. As best as I could, I tried to keep the friendship alive, but to no avail. Afternoons were spent in the day room of the Mental Institution, he looking furtively at the corners of the room, mumbling "we must get there, they wont be able to see us a that angle!"
Eventually he would have fits, the shrieking getting the other patients worked up, and poor Hajro would have to be removed.

In the same vein, but altogether far more pleasant is my rediscovery of the first Ultimate Spinach's LP, on CD. I hadn't heard this record in about 20 years, and my memories were not good. From the muddy mix, which seems to be the calling card of the producer Alan Lorber, to the ear splitting high pitch organ, after a few listens I had given it away to someone.
Now, finding a cheep used copy on CD, I can hear what was going on under the sonic mud. Big Beat Records must have had the original master tapes, for now one hears the Theremin wail away on (Ballad Of A) Hip Death Goddess. Small aside: Nico auditioned for The United States Of America. Nothing came of it and no tapes are said to exist, but with this song one can get the idea what that must have sounded like. The rest of the album is pretty inventive, while much of it owes to The Doors, The Mothers Of Invention, and even the above mentioned United States Of America. Perhaps the lingering shill that was the "Bosstown Sound" will someday be forgotten, and this band will get it's due...

Please click on the review title for sample track: (Ballad Of) The Hip Death Goddess