I don't think I'm going to live long enough to catch all the cooler than hell belated releases of 60s and 70s treasures finally making their way to the market. Christ, I don't think anyone could live that long because, should this trend really catch fire, the amount of hidden concert tapes, unreleased LPs, and cutting room floor tracks is mountainous, could well take a century to disburse. I mean, consider this: in his lifetime, Hendrix saw three LPs of his work released. Now, between a post-mortem ocean of bootlegs, strange Warners/Reprise LPs, and the killer stuff Janey's emitting, there are well over 350 LPs extent—and that number's one I ran across at least a decade ago, so I imagine the real stat is appreciably higher.
In the last five or so years, however, the rate of overall spectrum releases has angled up significantly for one and all, and now we have a rescued gig by one of the more obscure British bands, a CD that's rough in its sonic qualities but an excellent vibe-catcher of the time. For just four guys, this outfit could make a wide rock sound that tended to veer towards the progressive every so often. The first time I ever ran across them was within the extremely hard to find first Glastonbury Fayre box set issuance in the early 70s (and some bastard ripped mine off a few years after I scored it; now I have the boxed CD version, also hard to lay hands on) with Hawkwind, Gong, and others. After that, I ran across them here and there, their LPs were not easy to find in SoCal. One had to be patient, but you couldn't help but dig their heavy approach to matters musical. The unit could be tight or sloppy—y'all know how krautrock goes!—but was attractive regardless 'cause they knew their shit and got down, acing bands like Jane, who were pretty much within Broughton's ilk.
This gig reflects the period muso-sphere of the area and mode perfectly. When the band's on it, they're ON IT, and when they're spacing and cobblestoning, everything's still quite enjoyable. Though the masked sound is at first a trifle annoying, the atmosphere is infectious throughout the long 74 minute set and you soon get over that ('sides, if you're an aficionado of bootlegs, you're used to it and even kinda dig it, doncha?; c'mawwwwn, admit it!) and become swept up in the spirit of the affair, from the goofy-assed, sing-along, folky Poppy to the headbanging of much of the gig. Time to remember when your hair was long, the rooms were herbally smoky, and the tunes were mostly deafening. What could be better?
Edited by: David N. Pyles
Copyright 2012, Peterborough Folk Music Society.
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