(5/69 contd.)
Skip Spence -- Oar: Schizophrenia meets Johnny Cash meets psychedelia. There is no real need to pedestalize and romanticize insanity like many fans of this underground cult classic tend to do, but the musicality is sufficient enough to excuse it. To a degree. B
The Who -- Tommy: He's deaf, Jim! And blind. And dumb as well, apparently. But lord, can he work a pinball. Not the first rock opera but the most ambitious one to date, and one that justifies its length even if all but two or three of the songs are unlistenable out of context. Also, fuck Uncle Ernie. A-
Crosby, Stills & Nash -- Crosby, Stills & Nash: To critics and decriers of so-called "hippie bullshit" music: the door is that way, and I invite you to let it swing closed on your ass as you exit. Vocal harmonies that top both the Byrds and Hollies combined with a counter-culture sensibility leads to the rise of perhaps the most singularly impactful band of 1969. A+
The Hollies -- The Hollies Sing Dylan: An album full of Dylan covers that are stripped of all substance and whittled down to their most rudimentary qualities, with a hefty infusion of bubblegum to complement it. Misguided in every sense of the word. D+
Traffic -- Last Exit: A bridge between the two eras of Traffic, albeit a makeshift one and a very rickety one at that. Second-rate studio cuts comprise the A-side and the B-side consists of two long jams that predictably overstay their welcome by about four-and-a-half minutes each. Winwood still jams hard, though. C+
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