Speed, Glue & Shinki
's landmark debut album, 1971's
Eve
, is one of the greatest contradictions of its time (maybe all time): a primitive, deranged, and at times downright sloppy mutation of acid blues and proto-metal, akin to the
Bloomfield
/
Kooper
Stills
Super Session
crashing headlong into earliest
Zeppelin
and
Sabbath
records, as performed by musicians whose instrumental chops were actually beyond reproachâ?¦but you'd never be able to tell from this! In fact, guitarist and group linchpin
Shinki Chen
was often referred to as "the Japanese
Hendrix
," and both bassist
Masayoshi "Glue" Kabe
and drummer
Joey "Speed" Smith
possessed impressive resumes of their own before forming this unholy union under the guidance of
Atlantic Records Japan
executive
Ikuzo Orita
. As if you hadn't guessed, it was
's mutual enthusiasm for various illegal pharmaceuticals that informed not only their crude garage rock aesthetic (
the Stooges
' debut album sounds almost civilized by comparison), but also the barefaced paeans to massive drug consumption that pass for their lyrics. Take "Mr. Walking Drugstore Man,"
's opening statement of Neanderthal heavy blues, for example (and take these reds too, maaaaaanâ?¦), where
Joey
's dangerously distorted vocals plead their amphetamine craze-case to his pusher, or the shamelessly direct, musically tighter, and somewhat less lethargic
"Stoned Out of My Mind,"
where
Shinki
's guitar mastery reflects the rising pulse and paranoia caused by, among other things, "all of the straight people staring" at the band's long hair. Sandwiched between these twin towers (containing nothing but
13th Floor Elevators
) is the frankly hilarious
"Big Headed Woman,"
which inhales
Link Wray
's
"Rumble"
through the bong that spawned
's cover of
"You Shake Me"
at half-speed, and pillories the young lady who dared smoke all of
Joey Smith
's "stuff" while "balling another man at night." For shame! Another cut,
"Keep It Cool,"
pretty much reprises this same, sordid cuckold tale just a little while later (and far less effectively), but
"Ode to the Bad People"
finally lays off the meds long enough to impart some typically utopian hippie messages against the album's most urgent, lucid sonic background. And while the instrumental bass solo,
"M Glue,"
merely soundtracks
Masayoshi Kabe
's raging addiction to Marusan Pro Bond Glue, the album-closing
"Someday We'll All Fall Down"
takes a truly astonishing detour into
Dylanesque
acoustic guitars and soft-spoken philosophies that literally sound like the work of another band. What a trip! So don't be fooled by the innocent trio of schoolgirls gracing
's dust jacket;
provided one of the most harrowing glimpses into rock & roll's heart of darkness with this lo-fi masterpiece. ~ Eduardo Rivadavia