Here's an original copy of  KIM FOWLEY- "Outrageous" LP, originally released 1968 in the US on Imperial LP-12423. Amazing copy of this very rare US original heavy psych monster. Has original factory innersleeve, and the original shrink wrap!  The gatefold has NEVER BEEN OPENED!  
CONDITION: Vinyl: NM - Side A is like Mint, Side B some very light scuff wear in a few spots, but overall shiny and clean and plays like Mint!  Listen to the recording to hear for yourself. Cover: NM - Still in original shrink wrap and crispy clean, so the only wear is on the exposed edge and corners, and it's very minor wear from being stored and handled. (Would be mint besides this edge having slight corner/edge wear)
CLICK THE LINK BELOW TO HEAR A RECORDING OF BOTH SIDES OF THIS EXACT RECORD FOR QUALITY. http://cinco.ly/!AIvCVTrT7vco

Kim Fowley ?– Outrageous

TRACKLIST:

Rare and sought 1968 first pressing in thick gatefold cover of the *best* Kim Fowley album...a raccous raving primitive pounder featuring the mad man on the looose! Actually, tight electrified jungle rhythmic *melodic* song structures with crazed lyrics, bugged-out vocals and loads of WILD fuzz guitar....how can you go wrong when looking for that 'bent' edge..."OUTRAGEOUS!"

Rumor has it that Fowley is backed up by various members of Steppenwolf ...

Let’s Go Out of our Minds: 
OUTRAGEOUS ....opens with the brief Gatlin gun drumming and lightweight Hendrix-ish psychedelia of “Animal Man”. Like the Standells playing the Music Machine’s hit “Talk Talk”, the music exists entirely on its own, working well as an instrumental and merely laying down a foundation on which Fowley sets out his stall: “I’m ugly… Uh-huh… Dirty, filthy, sneaky, horrible. I’m gonna kill you, are you straight? Well, I’m animal man.” Verse two is just as wired and the music is great psychedelic garage rock. Cue verse three: “I’m a love addict… Public enemy number one, I’m gonna butcher all the girls on my loving room floor.” A Suzy Creamcheese-type voice announces: “Oh animal man, you’re so rough and so… big.” Seven seconds of grunting (count ‘em) and Fowley comes like a 16-year-old. “It’s too dirty, it’ll be banned,” he chuckles, and that’s where you start liking the guy. 

“Wildfire” really kicks OUTRAGEOUS in, as a Gothic minor key blues guitar riffs over a slouching lurching drum beat, and the voice of a singing cadaver croaks: ”Oh yayer yayer, some one’s been setting fire in my neighbourhood… an old car has been… somebody tell me… and who’s been setting the fire?” Fowley doesn’t finish any sentence, just leaves a space for us to fill in and moves on. “Wildfire… it’s wild figh-figh-figh-figh-figh-fire. The fire inspector came up to me and he said to me: “How do you know? How do you know? How do you know?” And I asked him: “How do you know? How do you know? How do you know?” Next up is “Hide & Seek” -- an excellent funky early Sly-type jam -- its inclusion is to help inform yourself why Kim Fowley still mainly remains utterly unsung.

“Chinese Water Torture” is the most abject form of genius; a forty-three second Morrison take on “Horse Latitudes” for paranoid teen masturbators. Hilariously contemptibly rubbish fake oriental intoning excites the drummer into stomping frenzy until a super paranoid Fowley paranoically insists that the police have just walked in and made them stop playing, and by the way,we’re all dead. Excellent.

“Nightrider” is a gigantic circular jam with an amazing guitar riff and a tripping vocalist coming to terms with the fact that contact lenses really must be cleaned every coupla months, or they’ll dry up like husks right there in your eyes. Here, Fowley takes the archetypal garage Count Five scream and punishes until his throat is razor raw ... then, possibly the albums highlight...infectious as anything before or after: “Bubblegum” opening with truly euphoric Robbie Kreiger ever-ascending guitar and an atmosphere straight out of STRANGE DAYS. “Your name is Bubblegum, live for moon and sun,” coos Fowley. Oh, “Bubblegum” is brief, beautiful, deeply sexy and groovy-groovy-groovehhhh!

“Inner Space Discovery” where the Fugs meet the Doors. The engineer blandly insists that this must be in the “Mark Lindsay voice, Kim”. And so this glorious “Inner Space Discovery” takes off, though utterly devoid of any Mark Lindsay voice whatsoever. This song – its tones of voice -– musta been the blueprint for the Iggy Pop. Then comes the flatulence of “Barefoot Country Boy” becomes possessed and ultra-weird when used as musical support for someone snorting, belching, straining and sneezing their way to a heart attack. And finally we’re into the biggie – the transformation freak-out which sets OUTRAGEOUS aside from all but the best. “Up” is the definitive audience-led stream-of-unconsciousness descent into madness; fourteen and a half minutes of soul-review-from-hell ritual abuse by a tripping and paranoid maniac, who may even not be on drugs. As always, this is Kim the Observer and everything he sees, even in the safety of his own recording studio, is out to get him. The smoking girl who brought in the whip comes in for some particularly strong criticism. A coupla minutes further into this death trip and he screams in apparent surprise, and apparently to no-one/everyone: “You’re not dead”. What a give-away – he’s tripping his socks off. “I just woke up next to Ay-dolf Hitler’s body… Is this hell? Is there a drummer somewhere in hell?” The questions are coming too thick and fast, now. “Do you wanna bury the straight people? Straight People’s Funeral Song, please.” Cue cheesy-cheesy organ theme. “Well, the straight people are going nowhere… and we’re gonna get you, we’re coming after you…”

“Up” dies in echo only to be followed by the insane vocal-only coda “California Hayride”. This brief final track is a whole pre-Altamont, pre-Manson dialogue between the screaming incoherent belching Fowley and the compassionate frankly-unbelievable world-changing charlatan Fowley. Everything that the latter character asserts is instantly undermined by belches and stun-grunts from the other speaker. Fantastic. 

In conclusion, Fowley chants: “We’re rough, we’re tough, we’ve had enough!” over and over and over again, before the engineers pull the plug and a strangely delightful silence pervades the room. Transformation.

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