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7 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Sublime early 1970s psychedelia, 14 Nov 2003
This second installment in the "Radio Gnome Invisible" trilogy was rushed out on a wave of enthusiasm thanks to a British record contract with Virgin a few months after the first installment, "Flying Teapot", and is a remarkable improvement. The long, rambling jams of "Teapot" have all but disappeared, replaced by a suite of twelve well-crafted songs, musical interludes and moments of inspired lunacy (literally -- the album was purportedly recorded at full moon in the woods near the band's French home), linked by a clear narrative concept and with a pleasing orgasmic structure: it starts gently, it reaches a mind-rocking climax, and it ends, and when it does you're satisfied. You might even not bother with playing "You" afterwards, which is a very cold cigarette indeed, smoked in an uncomfortable bed.As always, conflicting record contract hassles mean there are two versions bouncing around, but only the Virgin one has the original Tom Fu cover, which shows the action as it stands at the end of "Flying Teapot": Zero, looking a great deal like Daevid Allen, offers fish and chips to the good witch Yoni and is rewarded with a magic potion which sends him on an erotic dream. The rude open-legged moon into which he travels, his goatee poised suggestively, was covered with a sticker on the original release. Unfortunately, the Virgin release adds as a bonus track "Ooby-Scooby Doomsday" from the "Live Etc" album, which means the CD is a hassle: you have to leap for the off switch after the coda, not always possible in a conducive frame of mind. The existing Virgin CD as I write (Nov 2003) doesn't include the original lengthy blue booklet which came with the album and explains all the action along with the lyrics, but this did come with the box set of the trilogy, now deleted, and is promised in a revamped version of the album due soon. (How soon, no gnome knows.) So you might want to hold out for that, and for the possibility of no more "Ooby" (please, Virgin). The story of the trilogy is fairly straightforward, though ultimately damaged by Allen's decision to turn the concluding "You" into a downer. It concerns a seeker after truth, Zero (that's you) who tries to reach enlightenment by a cosmic quest, much of which involves taking psychedelic drugs. Had Allen recorded the trilogy five years earlier, Zero would have succeeded. But in 1974, disillusioned with drugs and with the failed hippie movement, Allen had Zero fail in "You", a decision which tore apart Gong. "You" is now the best known of the trilogy albums, simply because Allen no longer had faith in it so stepped back from the narrative, allowing the others to fill in time with lengthy funky jams. These are now revered as early indicators of the 1990s techno dance movement: the rest of the album is a didactic disappointment. However, all seemed to be going well in "Angel's Egg", and the album is a joy from start to finish. As the part of the trilogy that deal with Zero's great revelatory trip, it is the most psychedelic of the three, the ultimate LSD soundtrack and pretty good fun on lesser psychedelics too. It's always in movement: a spiralling guitar solo from Steve Hillage now, a deep space drift with Allen's glissando now, a Didier Malherbe flute solo now, Tim Blake's swirling synths now, Pierre Moerlin's percussion showcase now. All the members of the band get a share of the limelight and this busy movement from style to style enhances the trip appreciably. "Other Side Of The Sky" is the perfect opener, even if you don't have the blue booklet to guide you through it, at 7.40 the longest track on the album and an ambient trance which settles you beautifully into the piece, followed by the good humour and freaky imagery of "Sold To The Highest Buddha": you're relaxed and laughing from the start, absolutely vital components of a great trip. On the second side, the long "Oily Way"/"Outer Temple"/"Inner Temple" section is the deepest part of the journey, after which the album concludes with a slow surface. If there are criticisms, it would be that Gilli Smyth's "Prostitute Poem" is too long, an unwelcome erotic interlude which isn't actually all that erotic (compared to, say, "Erotica" on the first Man album "Revelation") and boring if you're not in the mood. Also, the coda "Eat That Phone Book", the weakest track on the album, brings you out of the journey with a bit of a bump. But these are small quibbles: this is an absolutely recommended album. Does it work when you're not under the influence of mind-altering drugs? I have no idea, and I've played it a thousand times. These eggs are best served addled.
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