Love
Ironically, Love was a different story. Where most bands intoned overt political slogans and messages of brotherly love, Love’s lyrics were often cryptic, dark, and intensely personal. Likewise, their music never fit snugly into the prominent styles of the day. It was too terse to be psychedelic, too restrained to be hard rock, and too odd to work as pure pop. It was idiosyncratic–like its chief architect, Arthur Lee.
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In 1965, after seeing the Byrds in an LA club, Lee formed Love with a bunch of local musicians. They became a major attraction around town and were one of the first rock bands signed to the Elektra label. A year later their eponymous debut hit the stores.
When Love’s second record, Da Capo, appeared in 1967, it bore little similarity to either its predecessor or anything released that year. It boasted a set of strikingly unique songs. The opener, “Stephanie Knows Who,” was a manic, waltz-time blitzkrieg of guitar, harpsichord, and horns that featured a freely improvised bridge section. The furious “7 and 7 Is” offered a punkish rave-up, while “The Castle” mutated a simple folk tune into an odd, extended instrumental coda. The 19-minute “Revelation” may have been rock music’s first side-long epic.
I’m trapped inside of night but I want day!
It has turned into crystal
And the ominous “The Red Telephone” opens and closes with:
