![]() Of course, Nazz had a tender, mellower side, too, as anyone who’s heard their most popular single, “Hello It’s Me,” knows. Plus, the “ba ba ba”s and “la la la”s are to die for. The dynamics are ingenious, with the build up to the chorus perfectly engineered for optimal vertiginous splendor. The second-best song here, “When I Get My Plane,” aptly soars during the chorus, with the word “plane” extended and falsetto’d to dazzling effect. The action packed into its five minutes is off the charts (literally): wicked zig-zagging dynamics, freewheeling guitar solo, flowery and fiery prog keyboard action, euphoric vocal harmonies, Blue Cheer-like guitar/bass detonation, and a robust drum solo, to boot. I can imagine the freakout crescendo coda making a young Tony Iommi shout “Cor blimey!” Nazz‘s third-best song on the album, “She’s Goin’ Down,” is another proto-grunge adrenaline-burner with a killer chorus that foreshadows power-poppers Shoes. Another case in point is “Wildwood Blues,” a proto-glam strut that overtakes the titular blues, like some strange melding of Cream with prime-time Slade, years before the latter rose to prominence. I think people underestimate how heavy Nazz were, because “Back Of Your Mind” finds them crafting hooky hard rock with a proto-grunge riff that Mudhoney surely lifted over 20 years later… and about which Blue Cheer must’ve felt jealous in real time, assuming they heard it. I’ve heard this song over 100 times, and each new listen turns me into a hyper ball of hyperbolics.ĭespite such a blazing start, the album’s remaining tracks don’t at all seem anti-climactic. And yet it only peaked at #112 in the singles chart. If Nazz had only recorded “Open My Eyes,” they’d still be all-time legends. The swerving rhythm, the mind-melting bass and guitar riffs careening around the bend, the handclaps, the cymbal splashes, the flanged vocals on “eyes” and “mind,” Rundgren’s sizzling guitar solo-it’s all too much, and yet you never want it to end. It’s simply one of the most exciting specimens of garage-psych ever waxed. Rundgren’s genius smacks you upside the noggin from the first seconds of lead-off song “Open My Eyes.” When I first heard this on the radio as a teenager, I was in a hypnagogic state I thought it was a cover version of the Who’s “I Can’t Explain” whose weird, supercharged energy had sent the song whirling off its axis. ![]() Right here, the 19-year-old Todd established his prodigy bona fides with some of the most dazzling work of his long and idiosyncratic career. On the contrary, Nazz is chockablock with stunners of varying styles. ![]() But the songs on their debut LP were anything but LCD fluff. This Philadelphia quartet basically started in the mid ’60s as a boy band geared for the teen-pandering rags of the time. That’s because Nazz were going for a unified look in haircuts, clothes, and, it seems, even facial features. Look at that cover-four heads floating in inky darkness-and try to distinguish the individuals, besides leader Todd Rundgren.
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