SRC: NO BALLS!

It had been proclaimed last August when the first SRC album came out that it would hit the world with a flash. And was guaranteed to scar you for life with “the sound of the universe”. But much to the dismay of the SRC it bombed out as heavily as it had crashed upon the charts. However their faith in tact the SRC continue to blindly build their fantasy realm. Thus the second album claims to be even more of a phenomenon than the first. Here is yet another group attempting to represent a milestone in the history of music. The SRC “The hope of the world” America’s Procol Harum the height of musical (comedy) achievements.

A highly eclectic hyperbolic collection of styles, the SRC is heavily influenced with the firmly anchored sounds of such remarkable English groups as the Small Faces, Procol Harum, Pretty Things, Pink Floyd, Who, Traffic, The Rolling Stones (of course of course) Engjebert Humperdink, and Millie Small.

The cover of “Milestones” is indicative of its contents. A hideous aimless road to nowhere. The cover artwork is artificial pretentious and leaves everything to be desired. Especially distasteful is the poorly cut out picture of the group that leaves one with a feeling that it was pasted on the back of the cover the night before release by some executives half-witted child. (It is interesting to note that the group is presented upsidedown which may reveal a great deal more of just where their whole thing is at, than they intended).

The musical content of “Milestones” attempts to reveal the intimate and ultimate significance of the beliefs and existence that are the SRC. They rely however, on a mass of poor instrumental ideas and aimless vocals (the term vocals is loosly applicable at best in this vCase.) In aimless vocals that smother any possible legitimate reasons, that may have existed. However, although not terribly imaginative (no shock to those intimate with the SRC), the album is not after all a complete failure. (It is moot point indeed to draw attention to the ironic justice shown such a group that it is inadequate even in failure.

Backstage legend has it that at one point in its meteoric/ mediocre career the SRC as a unit reached a decision intended to strengthen and purify their everyday struggle with the meaning of life itself. As a group (so the story goes) they vowed to a man to remain henceforth chaste and pure and undefiled by the animalistic desires and carnal pleasures common to the present masses of humanity THE SRC GAVE UP BALLING. This story oft quoted and lovingly treasured in the murky misty annals of rock history may or may not have any factual basis. But it nevertheless serves quite well to define once and for all the common denominator of that particular musical creation that is in essence the SRC... no balls!

A side comment or two. A1 Wilmot is a fine replacement for, Robin Dale who “left” the group between albums. A1 adds some good qualities to counter the predominent drumming E.G. Elmer Clawson. Once again however the drumming is the strongest feature and most technically coherent'of the group. E.G.’s energy, stylish playing, and amazing capabilities as a drummer make him the most reliable figure in the group. With the advent of Al there -is now a solid basis to build pon. Glenn Quackenbush the organist, is as flitty and. undisciplined as ever and gives one no real basis to establish any communication. He either attempts to overwhelm or undermine, but does neither effectively. Gary. Quackenbush (“the third member of the great B«ck/Claptqn/ Quackenbush triumphverant”) is as dull and pretty as ever. His leads are to modern rock as Muzak is to "a symphony orchestra, harmless,. lifeless, and uninspired. As for Scott Richardsons singing, he performs and dances quite well.

Side One: Cut A. ‘No Secret Destination’ (this one steps out on the wrong foot and trips over itself), a very sick beginning develops into a nausious boredom. The monotonous yocal (a trademark of the SRC) very nicely calls attention to the absence of any melody a ho hum bubble gum. Cut B: ‘Show Me.’ Very simple with a nice thought behind it and somewhat decent lyrics (show me if it makes you smile, we’ll see if it takes a while. We’ve got the rest of the day, show me and I?ll show you ' ..) but once again there’s nothing to back it up. The organ lead resembles that of “Grandma gone hip on the Hammond on Sunday Night”. While the tune is ended by screams of ShooOo hooo hooo hooo how me, reminiscent of a Cayote in heat. However this is neatly interwoventhroughout the song by some very good “nar na na na na nahs.” Cut C: ‘Eye of the Storm’. Imitative it begins with a distinct bit of the Pink Floyd and a good one at that, breaks into a Small Faces thing with a singing melody like that of Love. The lead guitar whines in and out of a double track voice that even twofold remains weak and uninteresting. The organ again adds nothing but attempts a poor fill-in for the many empty spaces thatare recurrent problems with the SRC material, (in many ways \ Glenn’s organ appears as a mad man hair transplant on a barren scull). Cut D. ‘I Remember Your face’. Bubble Gum opens with five Seconds worth of soap opera nitty gritty. Then adds a very nice harpsichord which leaves only, that one with organ and harpsichord. A bitch of a tune if your 12 years old. Cut E: ‘In The Hall of the Mountain King/Becks Balero’ Ahhhh. Grieg’s Hall x>f the Mountain King is beautifully used as a means of breaking into Becks Balero, hardly. A good combination of two beautifully written pieces done in a series of important semi-buildups. (If you like a drum solo you’ll like this one because there’s nothing else worth mentioning here) except for the drums and some interesting screams emitted in the Bolero one wonders what went down at that recording session.) Decidedly the live performance of the group is much finer than the recording. What a shame.

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Side 2 (gets better) .

Song A: ‘Checkmate’, a good song this one. Honest. It has the potential of being a hit that is if it were done by the Cream, Traffic, Hendrix, Faces or Stones. Some nice guitar arranging, but the lead resembles Robin Trowler of the Procol Harum to a suspicious degree (but Trowler has a very nice style indeed) the organ lead seems to lag on, to hell with it. Seems it lags. Leaving the listener with a feeling that it never got started. However the tastefullness added by the bass anddrums compensate somewhat. And almost save this one. Cut B: ‘Our Little Secret’: (if only Kasenetz-Katz had thought of this first. It begins with a Hawaiian surf guitar which is both refreshing and a welcome change. But the affected corn husky voice and the repititious repititious repititious melody detract from the, shall we say, pleasant lyrics. ‘Our Little Secret’ Will be that we will have no secrets at all); Cut C: ‘I’m Turningwill be that we will have no secrets at all). Cut C : ‘I’m Turning into Love’ a very catchy tune. The only bring down in this one is this singing which comes out like a Mac Truck, why don’t we do it in the road. The hammering i.e. pounding piano and clean honest sound of spade chicks in the background add the ingrediants needed for a good solid hit. Most of the attention I’m afraid goes to the fine singing by the spade chicks and the down home lyrics. A very nice song for Percy Sledge. Cut D: ‘Up All Night’ this was a respectable hits under another name for the polling Stones. However remarkable it may seem 1 the singing on this one is actually bearable. Another funky piano and a lead guitar that resembles much of the Beatles oldies which resemble much of Chuck Atkins oldjes which , resemble ... sounds alright even though the influence of the Stones is much too aparent. It is an obvious song for Mick Jagger (no need to follow that up is there)? This one is a “mover” (and “I was running in every direction chasing my shadow through time trying to catch the reflections of someone who used to be mine . . . and I was up all night) Score one for the SRC. Cut E: ‘The Angel Song’ The album ends here (and there are those who would debate it ever bagen) with a take-off “steal-cop-bogard on the Zodiac record and is unfortunately

interrupted by an original fairy tale about an angel who would rather forget heaven and give up his memories for a dream. The story parallels that of “In held In Twas I” by the Procol Harum (coincidence again?) Then the sounds of the Zodiac come back and die into Part II. “I can not remember”, with a dull droning deat wail harmony, and another one of Robin Trowlers better leads. The album ends just as it began. Sprung full face forward in the dirt. With the exception of some “Trying Hard To‘ Be” good songs (I’m turning into Love, Checkmate and Up All Night) the album recordings and group are spiritless, cloy, obscure, lean, and after all is said and done a bit of a bore don’t you think? It is finally frustrating. It fails to excite, yet has tried and thats the delema for the intent, conceit not withstanding is good it just ain’t there.

One Who Knows....