Bold Chicken
A Fellow’s Lament [7-inch; Lysergic Sound Distributors]

Holy fuck, man; that Bold Chicken done went and psyched out my mama! This is such a bluesy ride, it throws me for a loop. Then those nasty choruses kick in and singer Buzz Clic (ooh!) puts forth those massive whoops, hollers, and rants and I totally get why this session, recorded in Ohio in 1972-73, needed to see the light of day again. The production is bound to be a bone of contention for treble-obsessed psych folk, and that’s exactly the reason I dig its guttural hound’s tooth growl. There’s an interesting push-pull from Side A to B. The front-side flares up with more standard rock fare, albeit delivered with just enough muscle to justify revisiting, “Gears & Tears” even doing a weird Elvis thang. The flip, a superior product, was created with a more Captain Beefheart-ish singer at the helm, a strategy I fully respect. Not sure which dude delivers the nasty duo of songs on Side B, but it’s a whole new band when he’s bringing the fucking house down. “Oh Doctor Please” is particularly explosive, a Van Vliet-style freakout (though the Captain hated the term “freak”) stretching out overtop a very un-Beefheart backbone (a.k.a. a straight-up, angular one) that gains a shitload of momentum as soulful backup vox and a hearty beat head the charge. It’s quite a quasi-funky ruckus, tight and nasty like a dolphin-flog. When you’re a small band jamming out somewhere, moments like this make you think you’re going to be a star. And maybe Bold Chicken shoulda been, you know? But life is cool enough to allow for the resuscitation of artifacts like this, so there’s always hope right?


Cerberus seeks to document the spate of home recorders and backyard labels pressing limited-run LPs, 7-inches, cassettes, and objet d’art with unique packaging and unknown sound. We love everything about the overlooked or unappreciated. If you feel you fit such a category, email us here.

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