Orgone Box - Centaur - Albums - Reviews - Soundblab

Orgone Box - Centaur

by Jeff Penczak Rating:9 Release Date:2014-02-20

I’ll dispense with the incredibly labyrinthine route this album took to get to our ears (it’s kind of a remastered, resequenced reissue of most of Rick Corcoran’s sort-of debut album, except it’s not really either one… Forget it!).

Let’s just concentrate on what’s at hand, which is nothing short of a brilliant pop-psych masterpiece of epic proportions, full of lush arrangements, Lennon-esque vocals, Hitchcockian, left-field musical references, and more hooks and singalong choruses than a glee club huddled around the campfire on a class camping trip. Let’s party like it’s, oh, 1967, as Corcoran (the Orgone Box himself) trots out every Beatlesque influence that’s ever found its way onto a Rutles, Raspberries, Emmit Rhodes, Utopia, Badfinger, et al album in the last 45 years.

It’s a full-on classic from top to bottom, but I particularly overplayed ‘Ticket With No Return’’s perfect pop and ‘Hello Central’’s elastic Pepperisms. With the standout hit from the 'original' 2001 release, ‘Judy Over the Rainbow’, throwing more 'spot the influence' riffs at you than a Nick Lowe convention, I could easily pick three other tracks on next listen, like Oyvind Holm’s Dipsomaniacal warm ‘n’ fuzzy glow on ‘Disposable’; Karl Wallinger’s Wurld [sic] Party view of how to make Jackson Browne cool again (again?) on ‘Wurld Revolvz’, or the sheer unadulterated brilliance of the Lennon-and-Hitchcock-smoking-bones-with-Anton-Barbeau-on-Hilly-Fields psychedelia of ‘Anaesthesia’. And there will probably be more of those (repeat listens) than with any other album I encounter all year.

So if your record collection has a special Beatlesque section you visit when skies are a little gloomy and the sun spends a little too much time behind those cumulus cotton-balls, then my advice to you is to remove all distractions from the room, cuddle up with a good pair of headphones (geez, not those dreadful earbuds) and 'Find the One' track that’ll make you thank God for dedicated artists like Sheffield’s favourite son (well, he should be). Let Mr Corcoran’s musical WABAC machine transport you back to a kinder, gentler time when you wore out your fifth copy of Rubber Soul and Revolver and couldn’t uncross your legs under the heady weight of Sgt Pepper.  

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