Sky Saxon & The Seeds @ The Cluny, Wed 5 October 2005 If you’ve ever seen the early Jack Nicholson film, Psych Out (1968), you’ll remember the acid trip scene in the graveyard, where a funeral procession turns into a manic romp through the fields. There’s a band that randomly appears in the foreground, playing their instruments with cheesy smiles and colourful jackets, but with ferocious aplomb and a snarling growl. | "In the good traditions of garage rock, it was messy and untidy, but full of menacing attitude. " | |
These are The Seeds - a garage-psych outfit that bloomed briefly in sunny LA during the era of peace and love but wilted under record company strain and commercial suicide. Formed two years before The Doors even released their debut, but containing oodles of tatty organ sounds, and unruly two-chord strumming, The Seeds, led by charismatic frontman Sky Saxon, may not have been the most talented of bands, but they had attitude in abundance. It was punk. But not as we knew it. Character What Sky Saxon made of The Cluny was anyone’s guess, as he sat and observed the stage before the gig, rolled-up cigarette in one hand, plate of food in the other. The road to Byker is a far cry from LA’s Sunset Strip, but The Cluny has a character all of its own that seems perfect for hosting raw and snotty garage punk. Taking to the stage in a brown hooded robe, he immediately began a rapport with the crowd, starting a conversation before a single note had been struck. What was immediately noticeable when he did start singing was that the angry, screechy snarl of the late 1960s has now been replaced by a deeper American drawl, that has a spaced out, ethereal quality to it. It’s more of a meander through Sky’s psychedelic world these days, rather than a sprint. Still, try telling the current version of The Seeds that, who performed the old songs with plenty of zest and at a speed that Sky seemed unable to keep up with at times. I say ‘unable’, but maybe ‘unconcerned’ is more appropriate. It all added to the musical frenzy onstage. After 40 years, The Seeds still sound like they’re rehearsing in your neighbour’s garage. You wouldn’t want it any other way. Pounding No Escape was a manic pounding of organ and guitar, driven by a thumping bass, and Sky’s sneer towards an unwanted lady friend while Rollin’ Machine has a wonderfully cheeky organ melody that sounds like a fairground waltzer laughing in your face after you’ve just thrown up.
 | | Peace! |
Evil Hoodoo was raw and loud. In the good traditions of garage rock, it was messy and untidy, but full of menacing attitude. It ended with an extended outro that had Sky adlibbing his trippy musings over swirls of fuzzy guitar and psychedelic organ. ‘It’s floating down over London town,’ he chanted in a freaky mantra. ‘It’s a snowfall, over London town’. Contorting his body in a trance-like state, it wasn’t difficult to know the kind of reference he was making. Several songs off their latest album, Red Planet, were also performed. Fools On Capital Hill is stepping into the anti-establishment territory of the more traditional punks, as opposed to the usual sex and drugs routine from many of the early Seeds anthems. 101 Colorized Bottles is more traditional Seeds fare however, with its frenzied guitar work and the organ sounding like someone repeatedly pressing the doorbell, only less annoying. Dancing During Mr. Farmer, Sky gets down off the stage and starts performing and dancing with the audience. He becomes one of them, singing while his band performs onstage. He remains there for the rest of the gig, amongst the audience. The old hippie ideal of giving music to the people is still alive in Sky’s world. The Seed’s biggest hit, Pushin’ Too Hard’, receives the biggest cheer of the night, but just when you thought the gig was about to end, the band extend the evening with several more tracks, including a raucous version of Summertime Blues, a steady rendition of Try To Understand, and to close, a glorious version of Lose My Mind that far outstrips the weedier original. The band are not perfect. They have their faults. But as Jefferson Airplane singer, Grace Slick, said in her fascinating autobiography, 'Somebody To Love’, “When a band is in sync, and everybody is playing well and feeling good, there’s nothing quite like it. You, both the audience and the performers, become the power of the music.” Quite. Nobody was going to spoil their fun. Or ours. |
