I guess British blues rock had to come to this - a giant send-up of the scene (intentional or otherwise) from a band with a transatlantic lineup. Not that Juicy Lucy doesn't have merits - it's just hard to take it at face value as they gallop through a furious, often self-effacing take on blues rock.

In the wake of the band Spirit's first breakup, Jay Ferguson and Mark Andes decamped to this tweener project which released a slew of albums in the early 1970's, with the debut being the most successful from a commerical standpoint. Under their new name (taken from a Chuck Berry song) Ferguson and Andes cook up a sound that finds a comfortable void somewhere between Joe Walsh's escapades around the same time, and the British glam rock movement. Other than the final track "Flying Home" it's an upbeat record filled with its' share of hooks and interesting guitar passages, yet there is something about the overall approach that misses the mark as well. Then again, Spirit was a talented band with all the ability in the world, and they never connected with a mass audience, either. So, my best guess is, most people will readily relate to the lead-off sing-a-long track "Run Run Run" (which was a chart hit) and then slowly lose interest as they progress through the rest of this eminently solid, but not overwhelmingly impressive record.

Here we find Iron Butterfly in an envious yet very difficult position, trying to quickly followup one of the strangest commercial successes in pop music history. Little wonder it made an immediate impact - nearly topping the charts, going Gold - then fading from view just as fast, derived by critics as a wobegone relic-before-its-time. The actual truth is a bit murkier. Ball attempts to take their staunch, street-hippie sound, and spin it off into different directions, but often it's a struggle even though there are moments where you feel like they hit the right vein. Part of the problem is their is no big drawing card like an "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida". Instead, it's a coherent set of songs in varying styles. On the one hand, it shows they were looking ahead to the next stage of their development, but on the other hand, this did not meet public expectations. Regarding the material itself, the band has even dropped the hippie mindset, and fallen into a depressing funk. This works in spurts - for example, "In The Time Of Our Lives" is an epic, paranoia-stuffed classic - but wears thin as you get through the record.

This defiantly unconventional debut record from the Hoodoos seems like it should be a real redneck rock kind of experience, but not really. In actuality these guys were quirky musicians who ended up in the post-hippie San Francisco scene and cut an album which reflected that mindset. Think of something similar to a darker, more risk-taking version of Little Feat, and you've arrived at Rack Jobbers Rule. For me, it's fun while it's on, but only slight bits leave an impression once it's off.

So, the ‘Hogs found time to record and release two albums in ’72 and surprisingly enough, it’s the lesser-known second release which wins out between the two. Judging by cover alone, one would think that Who Will Save the World is the immediate choice for casual listeners, but for me at least, Hogwash recalls the strengths of Thank Christ for the Bomb, and further amplifies them. One big change here is McPhee’s new found love of gadgetry – namely, guitar synthesizers, which really beef up the sound where it needs to be beefed up (the quite futuristic “Earth Shanty”, for starters). It also enables the band to really put the thump behind their progressive blues-rock aims, if you know what I mean. Of course, this would not mean much without the material being interesting on its’ own, and Tony is back to being all ornery over stuff in general. Turning his wrath inward, outward, on the future and the past, for good measure, but always willing to check himself, too. “I Love Miss Oygny” opens the affair on a sufficiently loathsome, yet deliciously dramatic note, setting the scene for even more head-turning acts to ensue. Which it does – “You Had a Lesson” doubles down on the previous track, using Pete Cruikshank’s bass as THE rhythmic pattern to teach and taunt you with. After a quick, echoey interlude, which I assume is meant for the the-then new drummer Clive Brooks (“The Ringmaster”), we come to the next fence post – “3744 James Road”. Heavily STEEPED in the blues, this mammoth track is not some odd dedication to a Memphis BBQ joint at all, but quite the opposite – an acid-tongued rant against the dangers of a musician’s life spent on the road. The ebbs and flows and theatrics of this track are the real attractions, though. The second half of the album goes more in a progressive rock direction. “Sad is the Hunter” and “S’one Song” have pronounced prog rock vibes – in certain places, they predate New Wave to these ears – while “Earth Shanty” solidly brings in elements of space rock to meld it with earthy folk-blues. Hence, the title, I would assume. Finally, as with past works, this album would not be complete without a look back, and this time it is “Mr. Hooker, Sir John” – a salt of the earth tribute to the man who gave the group its’ start in the business, John Lee Hooker. Not the best track here by a long shot, but it’s a Groundhogs album, so natural that a track like this would be on this record. So, out of all of the Groundhog albums I have reviewed, it gets the honor of being my favorite, mainly for being the one I gravitate to more easily above the others.