Van Dyke Parks, Discover America (side A)

1972's Discover America ranks among the most perplexing records I own. While many of the songs are beautiful, they're often stylized to the point of absurdity, with Caribbean and show-tunes influences jumping out at random. The string arrangements are both beautiful and distracting, as they are carefully crafted to contribute majesty and at the same time to violate the song structures. And while the strings are conventionally recorded, some of the backing vocals can jump out illogically. The lyrics can be incomprehensible, most of all the memorable "G Man Hoover". Van Dyke Parks's fashion sense in the back cover photo might even be stranger than this album, with huge plastic glasses, a wide-brim hat, and a carefully-styled mustache.

Kak, Kak (side A)

It's not surprising that 1969's Kak is a heavy rock album—the band's frontman Gary Yoder would later join Blue Cheer. Unfortunately the album's engineering, while certainly competent, seems to contain the impact of the drums and guitars, rather than letting the chaos shine through. While there were technical limitations at the time, its impact pales when compared to the work Bruce Botnick and Paul Haeny were doing at Elektra with groups like Love and the Doors. The album itself often shines, especially "Everything's Changing". Yoder's vocal prowess rarely matches his remarkable guitar playing, and the mixes don't flatter his limited vocal palette. While my late-90s vinyl copy appears to be an official reissue (no bootleg would use such an ugly/modern Epic logo on the center sticker), the mastering of low-frequencies is particularly uneven and the packaging looks particularly cheap.

Brute Force, I, Brute Force, Confections of Love (side A)

Another caveat here—I've done some work on an unfinished Brute Force LP that I'm hoping will be released someday. 1967's I, Brute Force, Confections of Love is a truly odd album. The songwriting is very well-crafted, and the arrangements from John Simon and Pat Williams are classy and professional. Brute's bluntly comedic lyrics do not neatly reconcile with the well-crafted music. His simple vocal delivery, while proficient (and perhaps ahead-of-its-time) in a way that would match perfectly with many indie-rock albums, also does not align with the incredibly traditional craftsmanship around it. The resulting album is often confusing, sometimes beautiful, and of course frequently very funny. Its sequence is surprisingly bottom-heavy, with the more memorable songs like "Tapeworm of Love" and "Brute's Party" far back in side B. The cover picture of Brute, in a dapper outfit and holding flowers, is also funny and memorable.

Comus, First Utterance (bonus 12" EP)

1970's First Utterance is somewhat legendary among folk-psych collectors for its strangeness. The album title, cover art, and most of all lyrics (which are printed on the liner notes of my reissue copy) all rate high in absurdity. What's remarkable, when going back and listening, is that the music is no weirder than any of their contemporaries'. It's a fun, unusual album, and its many quirks will always stand out, but the songs and playing are more competent and perhaps even conventional than they seem.

Israël Quellet, Oppressum (CD)

Israël Quellet remains a bit of a mystery. There's a short biography on the Internet that doesn't really explain how he ends up creating such innovative and distinctive albums. 2007's Oppressum reminds me a bit of Italy's Starfuckers/Sinistri, or maybe a Bruce Gilbert solo album. Most tracks are built on rhythmic loop, often made from harsh percussion. The results can be a bit abrasive, but never particularly "rocking"—the energy and aggression are not used to achieve emotional impact, but at the same time the results never feel detached or aloof. Quellet uses vocals both to interact with the underlying rhythms and to violate them. Oppressum is an unusual and remarkable record that's engaging intellectually while remaining approachable in every way.

Great Lakes, Diamond Times (CD)

I'm of course biased about Great Lakes, having worked on Ways of Escape. 2006's Diamond Times feels, to me, like a particularly transitional album. The self-titled debut caught listeners' attention with its raw energy, and Ways of Escape reflects a mature and obviously darker songwriting voice. The two albums in between reflect the process of growing up and grappling with these changes. The power of unbridled youth that still poked through The Distance Between is gone here, but the songwriting is noticeably more focused. The piano really jumps out in the mixes (perhaps that's Jamey Huggins, but the liner notes aren't very clear), and there's some great guitar playing too.

Chris Knox, Yes!! (CD)

It's hard to even write rationally about Chris's music at this point. It's also really inspiring to see video of him back on a stage performing with charisma and energy at a point where many others might have given up. I still do enjoy listening to his many great albums. By the time of 1997's Yes!!, he'd fallen into a bit of a formula, so it lacks some of the magic feeling of discovery that's present on Croaker. It features a bit heavier guitar sounds, a bagpipe, and the unforgettable "Ballad of a Victim of the Economic Recovery". There's also one of Chris's very odd collage pieces at the end—17 minutes and 26 seconds of "Ndidi". The combination of colors and patterns on the cover is hard to look at, which fits Chris's personality but not so much the music inside.