If a fan of the sunshine pop scene in the U.S. during the 1960s were to pull back the curtains of some of the more innovative, interesting, and odd records, they were likely to find the impish hand of one
Curt Boettcher
helming the controls.
The Association
's "Along Comes Mary,"
Sagittarius
' "My World Fell Down," and
the Millennium
's
Begin
album are the best examples of his genius blends of high vocal harmonies, Baroque melodies, and intricately played post-
Pet Sounds
orchestration. During this era, he worked with a core group of musicians, and none of them were more talented than
Sandy Salisbury
. His pure-as-a-Hawaiian-beach singing was a key part of the
Boettcher
sound, and not only was he a member of
, but the producer used him on a variety of sessions for artists like
Tommy Roe
and
Paul Revere & the Raiders
.
Salisbury
was also a strong and prolific songwriter, and the duo worked on writing and demoing tracks at a furious pace for a few years in the late '60s. Almost none of the songs were released, partially due to
's 1968 album
Sandy
being canceled by a failing label, but also because
conspired to hold them back in case he wanted to use them for future projects. Those projects didn't happen, and
quit the music business thinking that his songs weren't good enough. Decades later, spurred on by revived interest in both sunshine pop and
, the
album was finally released and numerous collections of demos and unreleased tunes hit the market, proving that his songs were actually just fine. It's been a few years since a collection like this has been released;
Sundazed
dug into the vault once more and extracted a small chunk of work the two had done in their short time together.
Try for the Sun
collects a batch of finished songs, acoustic demos, and unreleased tracks that run the gamut from frothy novelty numbers, introspective ballads, and gushing love songs to weird psychedelic interludes. The instrumentation is minimal on most of them, putting the focus on the otherworldly vocals. Both
possess high and clear voices that sound untouched by care or wear. When they sing in harmony, it's a sound that no other act of the time, or since, has quite managed to capture. Their singing gives silly little pop songs like "The Sun Is Shining Now" or "Oops" an extra dimension of oddness, makes simple, tough garage rockers ("Spell on Me") go down like honey, helps paper over the sometimes less than profound lyrics, and generally makes them sound like the featured performers at a coffeehouse located somewhere on one of the rings of Saturn. Even when the songs are uncomplicated ditties, like the title track or the happily sappy "She Brought Love to My Life," their voices make it weird and wonderful, like an elfin version of
the Everly Brothers
. Most of the set sticks to this kind of template, but there is one song where the music is as left-field as their vocals, namely a completely goofy take on "Baby Please Don't Go" that substitutes electronic noises and drones for anything remotely bluesy. It's so different from the rest of the album that it makes one wonder whether there are any more treasures like this in the vault waiting to be discovered. Apart from that, what
did dig up and shine some light on here is fascinating, and a worthwhile addition to the flood of
archival releases of the past that have sought to give them the credit they deserve as crafters of sublime sunshine pop. ~ Tim Sendra