Dallas-Morning-News-rockasteria

Cactus may have never amounted to anything more than a half-hearted, last-minute improvised supergroup, but that don't mean their eponymous 1970 debut didn't rock like a mofo. The already quasi-legendary Vanilla Fudge rhythm section of Bogert and Appice may have provided the backbone of the band's business cards, and soulful, ex-Amboy Duke Rusty Day brought the voice, but it was arguably former Detroit Wheels guitarist Jim McCarty who was the true star in the Cactus galaxy, spraying notes and shredding solos all over album highlights such as "You Can't Judge a Book By the Cover," "Let Me Swim," and, most notably, a manic, turbocharged version of "Parchman Farm." 

The fact that Cactus chose to tackle this classic blues song just a year after it'd been blasted into the fuzz-distortion stratosphere by Blue Cheer betrays -- at best -- a healthy competitive spirit within the early-'70s hard rock milieu, and at worst it suggests something of a mercenary nature to Cactus' motives, but that's an issue for the surviving bandmembers to duke it out over in the retirement home. And we digress -- for the blistering closing duo of "Oleo" and "Feel So Good" (complete with bass and drum solo slots) easily certifies the Cactus LP as one of the best hard rock albums of the then brand-new decade, bar none. Too bad the illustrious members of Cactus would quickly lose interest in this band project and deliver increasingly mediocre efforts in the years that followed. 

by Eduardo Rivadavia

Unless you lived in Quebec during the late 1960s, you more than likely have never been exposed to the sweet psychedelic sounds of Oliver Klaus. Finally enjoying a CD reissue, more than 30 years after its initial pressing of merely 700 copies, Oliver Klaus's 1967-1970 is a priceless artefact from a bygone era.

Comprised of Jerry Cushen on bass and brothers Bryan and Maurice Singfield, on drums and guitar respectively, Oliver Klaus grew out of the ashes of the locally successful Les Mini-Mod, who gained notoriety for performing in mini-skirts. Disillusioned by the public's interest in their costuming rather than their music, the boys in the band decided to concentrate less on gimmickry and more on composition and experimentation.

The result is the excellent 1967-1970, a melange of 60s pop, folk, rock, and psychedelia. Principal songwriter Maurice Singfield sounds uncannily like Stephen Stills circa Buffalo Springfield and the rest of the band, while a little less polished, follows suit with this comparison. Listening closely to the album one is forced to ask the question: Why didn't Oliver Klaus receive national acclaim similar to fellow Canadians The Guess Who?

The answer is simple. Though they had made many contacts through their constant gigging around Quebec, the group decided to retain complete artistic control by releasing the album themselves. Arguably, Oliver Klaus was the first do-it-yourself band in Canadian music history.

Oliver Klaus's 1967-1970 is a treasure for both the casual psychedelic listener as well as the vinyl junkie. This reissue includes the original LP in its completion, covers of tracks by Donovan ("Season of the Witch"), Jefferson Airplane ("3/5 of a Mile in 10 Seconds"), and even Neil Diamond ("Kentucky Woman"), as well as a slew of stellar unreleased live tracks. Hearing Oliver Klaus will make you wonder how many other great Canadian bands from rock `n' roll's golden era have drifted into obscurity.

by Ryan Wugalter

In 1971 Focus released the storming Moving Waves (Focus II in the Netherlands), complete with 'novelty' hit single Hocus Pocus, fondly remembered by many for Van Leer's bizarre yodelling. The album features the full six-minute plus version of the track, which belies its 'novelty' status by actually being a great piece of music with some truly stupendous playing from guitarist Jan Akkerman. Second track in, Le Clochard is where the Mellotronic interest kicks in; a gorgeous classical guitar and 'Tron strings instrumental, less than two minutes long, this surely has to be classed as one of the Mellotron Classics. 

After another beautiful (if 'Tron-less) instrumental, Janis and the title track, the album's only real weak point, comes another jazz-inflected instrumental, Focus II (the band have recorded eight of these 'theme' tracks to date), with some more 'Tron strings. I would guess that they were using a Mark II on these sessions, recorded at the same Dutch studio as their debut, but it's hard to tell.

The superb Eruption, is a multi-part piece with all the band's disparate influences thrown into the melting-pot to create a unique piece of music. The Mellotron drifts in and out of the piece, probably only appearing for a minute or two of the track's 22 minutes, but so effectively that it hardly matters. The music is stunning, with common themes coming and going and fiery playing from all quarters. This track demonstrates why I shouldn't copy tracklistings from reissue CDs; the multifarious parts of the track are listed differently on the LP and CD, so the listing above is from the original release.

Planet-Mellotron  

The album that boosted Focus into at least semi-fame outside of continental Europe, Moving Waves blasts off with their hit single, "Hocus Pocus." Built around a killer guitar hook by Jan Akkerman and a series of solo turns by the band, this instrumental replaced "Wipeout" as a staple of FM radio. The bizarrely hilarious vocal and accordion solos by Thijs van Leer -- one of which absurdly concludes with rousing stadium cheers -- have to be heard to be believed. 

After this over-the-top performance, the other tracks seem comparatively constrained: the gentle "Le Clochard" features some gorgeous classical guitar over Mellotron strings. The album concludes with "Eruption," which while mimicking the multi-suite nomenclature of Yes and King Crimson, is essentially a side-long jam session. Stop-time Emersonian organ solos alternate with languid sections of jazzy guitar redolent of Santana, while still other sections are flat-out electric blues-rock stomps. It's impressive playing, though it comes off as a bit meandering after the tightly structured solos that began the album. 

by Paul Collins

Rotary Connection released a handful of albums. The one that had the most mainstream success was Christmas-themed. Only one song, "Want You to Know," dipped into the pop chart, rocketing all the way up to number 96. How necessary, then, is a 33-track, two-disc anthology? 100-percent necessary. Until this release, the group had one of the most neglected discographies in all of psychedelic soul, or chamber pop, or acid rock, or Midwest hippie folk. 

Ugly two-fer releases and other vanishing reissues have done their legacy, and no matter how many producers and DJs have sampled and talked about their music, Rotary Connection have always slipped through the cracks, admired mostly in retrospect by a select group of crate diggers and open-minded fans of Minnie Riperton's easier-to-categorize (and almost always misunderstood) solo career. Black Gold: The Best of Rotary Connection aptly scans through the strange and unexpected twists taken by the group from 1967 through 1971, and while their inability to be categorized played a significant part in their obscurity, it was one of their prime strengths. 

The remarkable scope is best exemplified by a three-song stretch on the first disc: a steamy, almost unrecognizable run through Otis Redding's "Respect," the soaring "I Am the Black Gold of the Sun," and the impossibly delicate and moving "A-Muse" (also as gorgeous as anything off Love's Forever Changes). The package covers a lot of ground, including the entirety of the all-covers Songs and most of the highlights from the remainder of the albums. "Hangin' Round the Bee Tree" is the only missing highlight; otherwise, this is as good as it could possibly get, short of obtaining the albums in full. In addition to being a long overdue look at a very underappreciated group, the set also covers major chapters in the careers of Charles Stepney and Minnie Riperton, two of Chicago's greatest gifts to music. 

by Andy Kellman

1. Magical World (Sidney Barnes) - 4:24

2. Amen (Marshall Paul, Charles Stepney) - 4:03

3. Rapid Transit (Marshall Paul, Charles Stepney) - 0:38

4. Turn Me On (Sidney Barnes) - 3:07

5. Respect (Otis Redding) - 3:04 

6. Pink Noise (Marshall Paul, Charles Stepney) - 0:22

7. I Am the Black Gold of the Sun (Richard Rudolph, Charles Stephney) - 5:49 

8. A-Muse (John Stocklin) - 4:02 

9. Sunshine of Your Love (Pete Brown, Jack Bruce, Eric Clapton) - 5:07

10.Sursum Mentes (Marshall Paul, Charles Stepney) - 0:44

11.Memory Band (Charles Stepney) - 3:22

12.Didn't Want to Have to Do It (John Sebastian) - 3:14

13.May Our Amens Be True (Sidney Barnes, John Stocklin) - 3:04 

14.Tales of Brave Ulysses (Eric Clapton, Martin Sharp) - 4:32 

15.The Sea And She (Richard Rudolph, Charles Stepney) - 3:31

16.Hey, Love (Richard Rudolph, Charles Stepney) - 4:11

17.Song for Everyman (Terry Callier, Larry Wade) - 5:32

18.Love Is (Richard Rudolph, Charles Stepney) - 5:20

Focus are widely known as the Netherlands' biggest prog export; a good draw on UK and US stages in the early '70s, they actually produced less 'classic' work than you might expect. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that they recorded just one (almost) flawless album, their second, Moving Waves. 

They actually formed in 1969, pieced together from several other Dutch acts, quickly releasing their first album, In and Out of Focus, utilising a little Mellotron, along with keyboard player Thijs Van Leer's prime instrument, the organ.  There's an ordinary strings part on the jazzy Happy Nightmare (Mescaline) and a more overt part on one of the album's best tracks, Focus (Instrumental).

Forever More are one of the great neglected treasures of the 70s. The core of the band went on to fame as the Average White Band - Onnie Mair is Onnie Maclntyre of AWB, and the horns went with him and Alan. Mick Travis was briefly in Glencoe, split before they recorded, and has not been heard from since.

Stuart Francis was in Glencoe and is on their 2 LPs, which I recall as bland. Forever More were in a Lindsay Shonteff film, a dreadful sexploitation flick that does feature their music and some live, though murky, footage. For completists only.

The roots of the band lie in various Scottish aggregations that recorded a few singles in the 60s. Alan Gorrie, the main singer and songwriter as well as fabulous bass player, also recorded a few folkish sole tunes. Alan also did quite a few sessions in the 60s and early 70s.

The horn section on their records, also later to feature in AWB, is mostly guys from Mogul Thrash, one of John Wetton's earliest bands. Mogul Thrash made one LP.

Somewhere someone compared Forever More to the Beatles circa Abbey Road. Believe it or not, this is an apt comparison. The songs are consistently tuneful, go through some unexpected turns without seeming contrived, and build to emotional highs in a very convincing fashion. Some of the finest guitar playing by people you never heard of is on their 2 albums (Words on Black Plastic is the second, and in my opinion marginally superior).

In my alternate universe, "Put Your Money on a Pony" was a mega-hit and "Cut the Cake" never happened.

After the Zombies broke up, keyboardist/songwriter Rod Argent formed his own band in 1969, which incorporated more classical, jazz, and art rock influences in accordance with Argent's musical training. The group's other members were guitarist/songwriter Russ Ballard, bassist Jim Rodford, and drummer Bob Henrit. Argent's first two albums, Argent and Ring of Hands, received a fair amount of critical acclaim, but their real breakthrough came with 1972's All Together Now, which contained the Top Five smash "Hold Your Head Up"; In Deep produced a minor hit in "God Gave Rock 'N' Roll to You," which was covered by Kiss in 1992. 

By 1974, Ballard had developed his songwriting talents enough to leave for a solo career (Three Dog Night had a Top Ten single in 1971 with his "Liar," from Argent), and was replaced by guitarist John Verity and string player John Grimaldi. Without Ballard, the group lost its focus and indulged its tendencies toward extended art rock passages and improvisational solos to somewhat excessive levels. Argent broke up in 1976; Rodford joined the Kinks, while Argent himself recorded several solo albums and became a record producer, working with Tanita Tikaram, among others. 

by Steve Huey

With hindsight, it seems as if the Zombies didn't so much come to a halt as split off into two different directions. Colin Blunstone would take the band's poppiest, sweetest elements; Argent would take the gutsier ones, and appropriate the intricate keyboard arrangements (naturally enough, as keyboardist Rod Argent was the leader of both Argent and the Zombies). Neither Blunstone nor Argent would approach the majesty of the Zombies' prime, but they'd offer some pretty fair approximations. And that's what you get on Argent's self-titled debut -- a fair approximation of late-period Zombies, with a much heavier hard / progressive rock feel. There's nothing that's nearly as arresting as Odessey and Oracle, but it's not bad at all. Includes Russ Ballard's "Liar," the first Argent track to get heavy airplay in the U.S. 

by Richie Unterberger