Any fan of 1960s psychedelic rock worth his or her weight in vinyl should be familiar with this album and possess a copy of it in one form or another. I'm well aware that Alexander "Skip" Spence's masterpiece Oar has already received quite a bit of exposure in the blogosphere, but this post might be of interest to those curious to hear what a rip of an original copy of this record sounds like. Widely acknowledged by critics as one of the greatest solo albums in the history of rock 'n' roll, it has deservedly been reissued several times since its original 1969 release date, including a British CBS vinyl version in 1988, a Sony Special Products edition CD with bonus tracks in 1991, Sundazed's CD offering with even more additional material in 1999, and, last but not least, the same label's LP reproduction in 2000. While these variants all have their respective virtues, a 1969 pressing of the original album mix remains the definitive Oar listening experience. Although not easy to detect, there are subtle differences in sound from one version to another, the sort of thing that might only become apparent if one has listened to this record hundreds of times like I have. In my opinion, Spence and Columbia nailed it the first time around, and the sound of the original can't really be improved upon. Even so, I'm not sure if these digital facsimiles will do it justice.
Oar is much more than just a footnote in the Moby Grape story as it has finally earned the recognition that it deserves more than 40 years after its initial release. As is often the case with visionary musicians, Spence was a few too many decades ahead of his time, even for the countercultural record buyers of the late 1960s. If one looks at Skip's life in the same fashion as an LSD trip, it was all good vibes up until the peak as represented by the Grape's debut LP released during the summer of 1967. From there, however, it was all downhill, with the infamous fire axe incident in New York representing a bad comedown as well as the beginning of the artist's decent into madness. Recorded in late 1968 immediately after Spence had been released from his enforced hospitalization at Bellvue Hospital, Oar's 12 songs attempt to articulate the revelations witnessed by someone who got burned from flying too close to the sun. Since this particular prophet was rapidly losing his connections to the material world during the recording sessions in Nashville, the messages in the lyrics are often obscured by a psychedelic haze. Although the songs do not lend themselves to easy interpretation, one can still revere Oar as Spence's final significant statement before slipping into permanent darkness.
SKIP SPENCE IN COLUMBIA'S NASHVILLE STUDIO, DECEMBER 1968
The songs one by one:
"Little Hands" - In a world more just, this anthemic performance could have been a huge hit in 1969. Despite everything Spence had been through and undeterred by the approaching end of the hippie dream, "Little Hands" still retains the optimism displayed in his most inspirational Moby Grape compositions such as "Omaha." The lyrics deal with children and the hope that they will make the world a better place in the wake of the changes brought about by the counterculture. Seemingly simple couplets including "little hands caring, little hands sharing" and "little hands clasping, truth they are grasping" speak volumes.
"Cripple Creek" - I'm not sure if the disabled character featured in this song is supposed to be a metaphor for someone or something else, but it's a spellbinding performance nonetheless. Skip lays down some gorgeous multi-tracked acoustic guitar on this number, giving it a legitimate underground Nashville flavor. This is Outlaw country music before the term had been coined.
"Diana" - Although it's probably my least-favorite track on Oar, "Diana" still has a lot going for it. Songs about unrequited love or failed relationships don't sound much more sincere than this, so much so that Spence's anguish is well-nigh tangible. It just might be too emotionally painful for some people to sit through.
"Margaret-Tiger Rug" - Spence was one of the few musicians capable of pulling off this little drum-and-bass (no, not the mid-1990s genre of electronic dance music) ditty about...well, I'm still not sure even after listening to this song for more than 15 years. We will never know if the skeletal arrangements on this performance were intentional or if this was simply as far as Skip could go with it before his allotted time in the studio ended. The bonus tracks on the CD reissues of Oar consist of songs that have the same kind of instrumental backing and seem to have been works in progress. In spite of its similar unfinished feel, "Margaret-Tiger Rug" made it onto the original album, while the others did not.
"Weighted Down (The Prison Song)" - More proto-Outlaw country with a title that is a bit of a play on words. Based on the subtitle and certain lyrics, I think that this selection must have been at least partially inspired by Spence's stay in Bellvue, although I also might be taking things too literally. Quite simply, one of the most haunting and soul-baring performances ever recorded.
"War in Peace" - This is such a mind-blowing piece (no pun intended) of heavy 1960s psych that one could be forgiven for refusing to believe that only one musician played everything on it. Skip never got to play much lead guitar with the Grape, but here he handles the instrument in absolutely brilliant fashion. The same goes for his unique approach to percussion, a style that he learned on the job during his brief stint as Jefferson Airplane's first drummer. And all those weird sound effects? I think that I had read somewhere it was just Spence whistling or blowing into the studio microphone and slowing down the playback speed during the mixing process. Most impressive, however, is the fact that such a multi-layered performance was recorded on a two-track machine, primitive equipment even by 1960s standards.
"Broken Heart" - Yet another exercise in early Outlaw country sounds, "Broken Heart" is both despairing and amusing. Taking the title into consideration, one should not be surprised by the song's first characteristic, while its second becomes apparent after listening to lyrics that describe various characters such as "an Olympic super-swimmer whose belly doesn't flop" and "a honey-dripping hipster whose be cannot be bopped." I suspect that Greil Marcus must have especially had this tune in mind when stating, "Much of Oar sounds like the sort of haphazard folk music that might have been made around campfires after the California gold rush burned itself out - sad, clumsy tunes that seem to laugh at themselves as Spence takes the listener on a tour through his six or seven voices" in his review for the album from the May 19, 1969 issue of Rolling Stone magazine.
"All Come to Meet Her" - I get really tired of reading all the fawning critics who yammer on and on about how the Band is so great for their alleged ability to capture the essence of rural America in the songs from their overrated but still worthwhile first two LPs. Clocking in at a mere two minutes, "All Come to Meet Her" handily beats the erstwhile Hawks at their own game. As a Canadian, Skip Spence had a much better grasp of Americana than fellow countrymen Robbie Robertson and Richard Manuel, resulting in performances that sound far more distinct and genuine than anything they ever did.
"Books of Moses" - I can't think of any white guys other than Spence who could have written and performed an ostensible gospel number that is so dark and scary. "Books of Moses" reflects a view of God that is more in keeping with the wrathful Jehovah of the Old Testament than the New Testament's kind and loving Jesus. The hammer-and-chisel and thunderstorm sound effects provide the icing on the cake. I dare you to listen to this one with the lights off.
"Dixie Peach Promenade" - Completing the quartet of proto-Outlaw country tracks, "Promenade" at first sounds joyous, but upon further examination reveals itself to be manic. Its upbeat rhythm and deftly picked acoustic guitars stand in stark contrast to confessional lyrics in which at one point Spence bellows, "I took every bit of stuff from A to Z, now you hear me!" In his world, however, the music perfectly complements the words.
"Lawrence of Euphoria" - An ode to Skip's alter ego? As on "Margaret-Tiger Rug," Spence was one of the few musicians with the ability to make something like this work. Had it appeared as a cover version, the song would not have sounded out of place on either of the solo albums by his Transatlantic counterpart, Syd Barrett.
"Grey / Afro" - This epic closing track clocks in at nine-and-a-half minute and represents music of a variety that had never been recorded before and has never been recorded since. It would be interesting to know specifically what material influenced Spence during the conceptualization of this piece. Consisting of otherworldly drumming and near-inscrutable chanted vocals, "Grey / Afro" sounds like an aural representation of the darkest part of Spence's mind. Enter at your own risk.