9:30 FLY prog fuzz psych 1972 UK LP ORIGINAL PRESSING

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283

Hideously rare ORIGINAL PRESSING of this 1972 prog/folk/psych behemoth by 9:30 Fly.  I only wish I knew what that meant - and the cover art gets additional points for its literal translation - a clock stuck on 9:30, and.uh.a fly.  Nice gold leaf, though.  Musically, this is probably a lot funkier and a bit psychier than the prog-heads would have you believe, which is good for those of you who favor Hendrix to Tarkus.  And despite the fancy gold leaf sleeve, it's also pretty down to earth.  Occasionally even works up a sweat.  Like on "Summerdays", which lulls you in with a twinkling electric piano intro, then suddenly plunges you headfirst into some pretty sweaty, funky psych rock with some great jagged-edge guitar work.  No, it aint the Mothership Connection, but it's certainly a heck of a lot raunchier than "Pictures at an Exhibition" (remember that?) or anything Rush ever committed to vinyl (I try not to remember that).  And check out the Santana meets Hendrix heavy guitar psychedelia of "Mr. 509", an air guitarists' dream come true.  This is no fairy teller's master stroke bit of prog-folk whimsy - no sirree.  "Mr. 509" bursts through the doors with a six pack in each hand, crushing elves and faeries with a KILLER thumpin' machine gun fire fuzz bass riff, laying waste to the folkies with great shards of blue flame, leaving behind a half dozen of the first two Tyrannosaurus Rex albums burnt to a crisp.  Then, with a few pints under its belt and blood on its hands, it gets up on the bar and starts spitting out great BLISTERING acid guitar solos - the kind that make Carlos Santana's face contort like Mary Lou Retton in a meat grinder.  By now you're already checking the liner notes, making sure there's not a "Steve Vai" or "Frank Zappa" in the credits.  But just then the band completely changes gears and goes into a trippy psychedelic vibe, all liquidy keys and underwater Hendrix guitar, the prog folk answer to Electric Ladyland.  And like all good prog psych bands, 9:30 Fly save their biggest and boldest piece for the end, in this case the 9 minute "Time of War."  This is their big statement, a massive production that says something important about war, although I'm not exactly sure what (my guess is they're against it).  Giant FUZZ bomb explosions introduce our wartime epic, followed by great chiming guitar notes - a wake-up call of sorts - and as our story begins, we already get a sense of the fear and paranoia inside our soldier's head.  "Confusion held my body in its hand, took my gun and burned across the land."   There's a great instrumental break that says more about the horrors of war than even the well-written lyrics, as layers of guitar feedback and distortion take the place of the wails and moans of the wounded and dying, set appropriately enough to the steady march of a military drumbeat.  As the long coda fades out, it reappears one more time as an Irish jig, which may go a long way toward proving exactly WHICH war we're talking about here.  And this was still a full decade before "Sunday Bloody Sunday."  Not to mention that 1972 was the worst year for civilian casualties in Northern Ireland.  Perhaps there's a whole lot more meaning and importance under the surface of this mysterious little prog psych album.  More than, say, an armadillo with a gun turret.  ORIGINAL 1972 PRESSING ON THE UK EMBER LABEL.  This is as good an example as you'll find - cover's in EXCELLENT shape with only the tiniest bit of edge wear - just a litte bit of white showing through in places.  Vinyl looks nice and shiny, plays EXCELLENT with hardly any surface noise at all.