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Too experimental for their label International Artists, back in 1967.
A third album of luscious sampladelic pop magic. Catchy, laid-back Beach Boys-esque pop and Laurel Canyon-bedsit-style loveliness.
‘Music is heard coming from Iron Chicken’s egg. The egg breaks and Tiny Clanger plays with all the notes from inside. The Soup Dragon eats most of them, so Tiny takes the last couple outside and plants them. He gets the cloud to rain on them, and they grow into beautiful music trees. Tiny Clanger conducts the first tune.’
Wants-list Kansas City power-pop, from forty years ago, luxuriously revived.