It doesn't take long, though, for subversion to enter the picture. Traditional rock structures are upended and in some instances dissolve into incredibly strange sound manipulations: squeals of feedback, multiple layers of screaming and laughter, electronic bleeps and bloops, and so on.
There is, too, a distinct Eastern tinge to much of this album. Web research shows that A.R. stands for Achim Reichel, apparently a key figure in what has been labeled (after the fact, of course) as Kraut Rock, a movement among German rock musicians of the late '60s and early '70s. That era's interest in non-Western spiritual traditions seems to have manifested itself here in droning textures reminiscent of the raga. Personally, I have never been much interested in the kind of reverse colonization evident in, say, George Harrison's sitar fixation. There is too much hand-wringing and apology in it for sincerity to persist untainted. But seen from what I increasingly think of as the Lewis Mint perspective, the integration of foreign sounds into a traditionally rock 'n roll context would make for surprising listening indeed.
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