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Published: 2007/02/19
by Randy Ray

Acid Visions, v. 7: Echoes of Time – various artists

Spalax 14599

The Acid Vision series has been running for several years now in various formats — box sets, single and double releases. However, there is a uniformity to the music in each — '60s garage punk with grandiose psychedelic overtones immersed in Texas rock. Who knew such groundbreaking no hit wonders could be found in that huge, sprawling oil state in that seminal decade? What is now essentially a haven for horrendous modern country music, was once the shining hope for a cosmic wave of dirty acid pop.

Unlike the similar Nuggets releases helmed by writer/musician Lenny Kaye, these psychedelic bad boy volumes contain numerous selections by bands that rocked in their own separate, parallel universe. And I like that. The Kaye box sets are essential; as a matter of fact, no house containing music lovers from the ages of 5-75 should be without at least one of the releases. However, the flurry of Acid Visions releases — currently being remastered and resequenced for additional affordability (let’s face it: who still buys a box set when he can grab 20 albums on-line for the same price?) — showcase several bands in a mini-opera of “WhatcandydidIjusttaste?” lo fi surrealism.

The seventh installment caught me with its title, Echoes of Time. One, Echoes is a word I always lovedprobably because I’ll always remember being 16 and laying in the dark in my bedroom with Pink Floyd’s 20-minute plus “Echoes” raping my ears through huge, clunky headphones. “of,” of course, has no meaning that I could think of but it is probably of the lesser-known offensive small words I can think of, of course. Time, is wellticking away the moments that make up a dull dayFloyd again, this time from Dark Side of the Moon. And that’s the hook (three paragraphs later). Before space, the 45 and punk rock was officially labeled in the vast quantification of music in the 70s, we had persnickety little Beatle bastard bands trying to weld the Fab Fours to acid and getting whatever the fuck these tracks contain — a hell of lot of smiles, weirdness and zero budget recordings all played in a singles format — prehistoric iPod cherry-picking, as it were.

Lemon Fog are represented by a handful of tracks including the volume's title track and, like the rest of its brethren, contain a cool organ with gentle Byrds-like guitar chimes. “Summer” and “Day by Day” continue in this vein and remind one of the early Moody Blueswhen they weren’t intellectually wanking themselves with spoken word poetry. The Novas also filter their smoke through a rich organ sound and jingly jangle guitar on “And It's Time” and “William Junior” while The Word D’s “Keep On Walking” sounds like it was recorded in a cave on a beach from an outtake from The Big Lebowski: “Nice Caucasian, Jackie.” The Basement Wall are the real Floydian mind bender on this set as they cover some ’60s psychedelic ala “We Ain’t Got Nothin’ Yet” and mix it with a dash of speed freak organ and Garcia guitar mayhem on “The Basement Exit.” And if your trip is bending just quite right, slip on “You’re Gonna Be Lonely” and “No More” by the Chessman as they’ll guide you to the next planet fairly safelysweet headcan music on a set filled with joyfully innocent garage chemistry on the cusp of an initial LSD journey.

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