Of Cabbages and Kings – Chad & Jeremy’s Psychedelic Left Turn

By the mid-‘60s, Chad Stuart and Jeremy Clyde had already carved out their niche as purveyors of gentle, harmony-driven folk-pop. They were the thinking person’s duo, offering up sophisticated melodies wrapped in a veneer of British cool. But *Of Cabbages and Kings* (1967) was something else entirely—a bold, orchestral, psychedelic opus that found them stretching the boundaries of their sound in ways that few expected.  

If the title nods to Lewis Carroll, the music itself is a full immersion into the topsy-turvy headspace of the late ‘60s, where folk, baroque pop, and avant-garde experimentation collided. It’s an album that sits comfortably next to the likes of *Sgt. Pepper* or *Days of Future Passed* in ambition, even if it never reached those commercial heights.  

### **A Kaleidoscope of Sound**  

What makes *Of Cabbages and Kings* stand out is its sheer theatricality. The production—helmed by Gary Usher, a man known for his work with The Byrds and The Beach Boys—leans heavily on layered orchestration, oddball interludes, and a sense of whimsy that’s just shy of self-indulgence. Songs like **"Rest in Peace"** and **"Progress Suite"** take on a cinematic quality, blending folk sensibilities with grand, almost symphonic arrangements.  

Lyrically, the album reflects the growing disillusionment of the era, blending surrealism with sharp social commentary. **"Rest in Peace"** has the bite of a protest song wrapped in a stately, almost macabre melody, while **"The Gentle Cold of Dawn"** delivers a haunting introspection that lingers long after the song fades.  

### **Lost Gem or Overlooked Masterpiece?**  

The problem—and perhaps the reason the album never quite found its footing commercially—was that Chad & Jeremy were still largely seen as soft folk-pop crooners. Their audience wasn’t necessarily looking for orchestral psych-rock, and the underground scene that embraced bands like Love or The Zombies didn’t immediately see them as part of that revolution.  

But in retrospect, *Of Cabbages and Kings* stands as one of the more fascinating albums of the era—an ambitious, unexpected detour that deserves rediscovery. It’s not just a relic of ‘67; it’s a testament to what happens when artists refuse to be boxed in, when they take a leap into the unknown and dare to get a little weird.  

And in the end, isn’t that what psychedelic music was all about?