Identified as one of the loudest albums in rock history, but
even that has an asterisk. The story goes that during the recording of Outsideinside, Blue Cheer was kicked out
of the studio for being too loud. So, the band decided to record the remaining
material on Pier 57 in New York, and even then, ships miles away could hear the
racket.
Of course, none of this eardrum breaking sonic overdose is
that prevalent on Outsideinside. What
remains is a thick, viscous sludge.
Fans of garage rock, early heavy metal, psychedelic
freakouts and headache-inducing stereo panning will be pleased with the mucky
results. It is 36 minutes of lysergic bliss, bashed out by a trio of grubby
bikers who asked members of the Hells Angels to coordinate the art direction.
The resulting package is an enjoyable time capsule in which Dickie Peterson is
perched on a mushroom with drummer Paul Whaley and guitarist Leigh Stephens
also sporting wide smiles as 5 bikers bring weed to the power trio.
The novelty of the packaging, the recording sessions and the
band’s unhinged personalities all pale when those first moments of fuzz hit. Outsideinside was the second album from
Blue Cheer in 1968 and its predecessor Vincebus
Eruptum is the release that tends to get higher recognition.
By record number two, Blue Cheer had undoubtedly logged a
few highway miles and they sound a bit tighter on the final results. But I’ll
be damned if I can hear any real intricate detail in this sludgefeast, and
there are still plenty of moments where the band occasionally falls off the
rails, giving the entire thing a sense of legitimacy.
Which is just another way of saying “It’s awesome.” With
covers of The Stones “Satisfaction” and Albert Kings “The Hunter” put into the
line-up as some kind of reference point-but it hardly matters: You can hear the
tape catching speed at the beginning of “Satisfaction” while “The Hunter”
starts of fairly innocuous before slipping into another acid casualty by the
guitar solo.
How this record ever got made it a testament to the free
spirit of the record industry at that time, where even a power trio of limited
competencies with loud amplifiers could get signed. The end result is a wonderful time capsule, a
soundtrack to your scrambled eggs hangover and a perfect reminder that rock and
roll music was once a dangerous place, performed at dangerous volumes and
fueled by dangerous substances.
They have the vinyl re-issue of this at Record Collector. Full gatefold. You should buy it.
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