Apr 8, 2020
Man, here's a big ol greasy splinter for your soul pressed out on twelve inches of uncommercial plastic via Northville Michigan in the middle game of 1973. I reckon if you add even a sprinkle of "non committal" to the Xian game from the shadows of the mitten, the whole stew gets real sour, real fast. Organ + Christ poetry is common yes, and normally pretty solid transport to SOME other region circa 11pm onward for solo evening audio reflection, and the same blueprint is more prevalent on the lower Western side of the state on bougie big cash labels like Diadem, but here under the guise of John Outlaw, the experience makes you feel like you just took a shower in a goo gone and toweled off with turpentine. Side one's entire A-B-B smug social poetry gets real tight real fast and the schmaltzy story of "Testimony" on side two from girls to candy stealing to wavering candles signs from Jesus feels more like Salesmen-like than Soul-like. It has that 23% of "come on yo" than I dunno, The Family Alter Of The Air does. Instead of hammers, we got baskets. That said, that uneasy feeling and the "why the fuck I am listening to all these" atmosphere makes for a memorable jaunt. Sticks with you, somehow, and Mr. (sic) Outlaw was some kind of radio personality, just doesn't sit well with the Michigan cannon, which is fine, right? Strange label too, only did two versions of this that for all its conversion pretense, it not haunting the thrift stores, anywhere. Odd one that will always get a brow tenser when seen next to its more Michigan earnest counterparts. Whatever drama false or not that went into this, I'm good from here.