In the dense haze of the 1960s counterculture, few bands stood as raw and primal as The Seeds Their second album, A Web of Sound (1966), is a feral cry of proto-punk energy wrapped in the echoing murk of garage-psych grit. This is not just an album—it’s a wild ritual of rebellion, lust, and madness.
From the opening track, “Mr. Farmer,” Sky Saxon’s snarl cuts through like a shaman’s chant, his voice riding the rough pulse of Daryl Hooper’s hypnotic organ and Jan Savage’s razor-sharp guitar licks. The Seeds wield their simplicity like a weapon, crafting raw, repetitive grooves that feel closer to incantations than traditional pop.
The centerpiece of the album, “Up in Her Room,” sprawls out to nearly fifteen minutes—a sprawling, frenzied jam that pushes the boundaries of the era’s conventions. It’s a hypnotic descent into chaos, driven by an insistent rhythm that feels like proto-Krautrock, while Saxon moans and wails with unhinged abandon. It’s a precursor to the psychedelic freak-outs of bands like The Stooges and The Velvet Underground, but here it’s primal and untamed.
What sets A Web of Sound apart is its rawness. The Seeds’ production doesn’t polish their edges; it amplifies their imperfections. You can feel the sweat dripping off the studio walls as the band barrels through their riffs, their sound defying the polished harmony of their peers.
In many ways, A Web of Sound serves as a blueprint for what would later explode in the punk rock movement. Its unfiltered, visceral intensity feels miles ahead of its time. While not as polished or celebrated as other psych albums of the 1960s, it captures a feral energy that resonates with the underground ethos of later generations.
This album is not merely a piece of history—it’s a living, breathing beast. For those looking to trace the roots of punk’s snarling defiance and rock’s psychedelic extremes, A Web of Sound is an essential, electrifying listen. The Seeds spun their web, and it still ensnares the daring and the wild-hearted.
No comments:
Post a Comment