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...four very tasty treats from the limbo land between reality and drug induced muddlement, the saga studio and lounge denizens get busy producing their take on the swinging london sounds, their version of the NOW SOUNDS, be they psychedelic pop/rock or uptempo nightclub jazzing it's all done in a vastly off kilter way, not weird or freaky but just singularly intense psych fusion with no regard to finesse...so without too much added blabber and smoke lets take a quick meander down into the saga basement and see whats brewing in exploito-ville...first up there's some old mods going by the non de plume five day week straw people, firing off some inspired amphetamine shrieks drenched in echo and effects, including some early jamaican dub moves no doubt learnt from kensal sound systems/producers its a tour de force of post acid hard rock, a heavy swill of mad rushed vibes, neuro circuitry shakes instantaneous rewards from the 'cash-in gods', wondrous marvels from the junk shop of lost treasures...recorded in a brief moment it was designed to grab the attention of young married squares looking to get some swinging london vibes in their life, but these vibes had to come cheap, and cheap they were, ready to be whisked away from the budget racks that stood outside record shops back in the days of yore...next is the magic mixture, a hard rock outfit giving out with some doom riffing madness, a blurred generosity of club-land noise, the sound of the prole on the attack, getting hefty with profundity from the absent guru these cats lay down some primitive sludge that must be heard...as fate would have it the only people that did hear it originally didn't know what to make of the sounds they were listening to and just dismissed it into the record cabinet that stood beside the dansette player in the corner of the room...studio players with a certain rocking jazz sensibility got rowdy one night and laid down some tunes from the hit smash musical of the moment, hair , blowing some hard fuzz licks and solid organ growling across the grooves...the world of 'hit musical ' exploitation this stands proudly near the top of the list as a hot contender, a biscuit of renowned tastiness, once only delighted in by some suburban square comes winging its way into the age of ironic conformity where this wax can see off all pretenders...the dave moses group supply some righteous night club testifying with a golden trumpet and plenty of pilled up playing, solid blasts of NOW sound detonating into the living rooms of provincially, flipping their collective long hair sagaciousness into a mean and funky stew of triumphant pleasure, a solid bond with the stage at the mighty sixties london hangout 'the flamingo' and the 'twisted wheel' in manchester with R&B pop coming up nice and close with some purple heart frenzy...a chipper mind cleaning from all four platters, none better than the other in any objective sense, they all do their work of the slick con man from the other side of the tracks, the cosmic spiv with a suitcase of 'genuine merchandise', subjective moments can be discussed in the privacy of the front rooms of yesterdays modern dream...
...four very tasty treats from the limbo land between reality and drug induced muddlement, the saga studio and lounge denizens get busy producing their take on the swinging london sounds, their version of the NOW SOUNDS, be they psychedelic pop/rock or uptempo nightclub jazzing it's all done in a vastly off kilter way, not weird or freaky but just singularly intense psych fusion with no regard to finesse...so without too much added blabber and smoke lets take a quick meander down into the saga basement and see whats brewing in exploito-ville...first up there's some old mods going by the non de plume five day week straw people, firing off some inspired amphetamine shrieks drenched in echo and effects, including some early jamaican dub moves no doubt learnt from kensal sound systems/producers its a tour de force of post acid hard rock, a heavy swill of mad rushed vibes, neuro circuitry shakes instantaneous rewards from the 'cash-in gods', wondrous marvels from the junk shop of lost treasures...recorded in a brief moment it was designed to grab the attention of young married squares looking to get some swinging london vibes in their life, but these vibes had to come cheap, and cheap they were, ready to be whisked away from the budget racks that stood outside record shops back in the days of yore...next is the magic mixture, a hard rock outfit giving out with some doom riffing madness, a blurred generosity of club-land noise, the sound of the prole on the attack, getting hefty with profundity from the absent guru these cats lay down some primitive sludge that must be heard...as fate would have it the only people that did hear it originally didn't know what to make of the sounds they were listening to and just dismissed it into the record cabinet that stood beside the dansette player in the corner of the room...studio players with a certain rocking jazz sensibility got rowdy one night and laid down some tunes from the hit smash musical of the moment, hair , blowing some hard fuzz licks and solid organ growling across the grooves...the world of 'hit musical ' exploitation this stands proudly near the top of the list as a hot contender, a biscuit of renowned tastiness, once only delighted in by some suburban square comes winging its way into the age of ironic conformity where this wax can see off all pretenders...the dave moses group supply some righteous night club testifying with a golden trumpet and plenty of pilled up playing, solid blasts of NOW sound detonating into the living rooms of provincially, flipping their collective long hair sagaciousness into a mean and funky stew of triumphant pleasure, a solid bond with the stage at the mighty sixties london hangout 'the flamingo' and the 'twisted wheel' in manchester with R&B pop coming up nice and close with some purple heart frenzy...a chipper mind cleaning from all four platters, none better than the other in any objective sense, they all do their work of the slick con man from the other side of the tracks, the cosmic spiv with a suitcase of 'genuine merchandise', subjective moments can be discussed in the privacy of the front rooms of yesterdays modern dream...
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