Peter Hammill (aka The Jesus of angst) actually has fun here in a track from his first solo album Pawn Hearts. Dating back to 1971 (the same year that Hammill’s band Van der Graaf Generator called it quits for a while, though they would return to further trouble our dreams), Philip Random wouldn’t actually hear Imperial Zeppelin until at least 1979 at which point it quickly became a key part of the soundtrack to his short, albeit rich “tea drinking period”.
As stipulated in the liner notes for Hawkwind’s second album, “The spacecraft Hawkwind was found by Captain RN Calvert of the Société Astronomæ (an international guild of creative artists dedicated in eternity to the discovery and demonstration of extra-terrestrial intelligence) on 8 July 1971 in the vicinity of Mare Librium near the South Pole.” The album in question was In Search of Space and it clarified a key point. Hawkwind were not just tripped out hippies mucking around with echo chambers and whatever, but rather genuine explorers of the vastness of all eternity. And Lemmy was playing bass.
“Badfinger were supposed to be the next Beatles. Hell, some people thought they were the Beatles, signed as they were to Apple Records and showing a penchant for strong melodies and harmonies, and no fear of rocking out if required. In which case, Name of the Game would have been one of Paul McCartney’s songs, sad, beautiful, perhaps even meaningful. Maybe too meaningful in Badfinger’s case, as Pete Ham, the guy who wrote it, killed himself four years after its release (age twenty-seven) due, it seems, to deep despondence at the trajectory of the band’s career. Eight years later, fellow band member Tom Evans would do the same.” (Philip Random)
You didn’t get to hear much of Sly and Family Stone’s There’s A Riot Goin’ On when the album was new in 1971-72, certainly not if you were stuck out in suburbia. But what little you did hear was enough to make it clear: the 1960s were over, with only crushed and dying flowers left in their wake. A darker, meaner time was on us, even if many were still pursuing deep space extraterrestrial explorations of a personal kind.
Rare Earth being Motown’s best ever band of white guys, their 1971 double live album being one of the all-time greatest concert sets ever put to vinyl. You get pretty much all the big deal hits in pumped up, oft extended form, plus some lesser heard gems like this Ray Charles cover. A band that just loved to play and a rowdy audience that wouldn’t have it any other way.
“The best part of that Band movie The Last Waltz is when Van Morrison hits the stage and they kick things through the stratosphere with Caravan. As far as I know, 4% Pantomime is the only other time they all hooked up on record, and the magic’s here too. Good, infectious, less-than-lucid times all around.” (Philip Random)
Randophonic 
