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In 1980, Echo & the Bunnymen released a landmark album that not only captured the neo-psychedelic zeitgeist but defined it. Their debut, Crocodiles, had a dark brooding melancholy and lysergic dementia reminiscent of the Doors, with the sound an amalgam of hypnotic tribal rhythms and acerbic guitar slashes that evoked the Byrds on a trip to hell. Vocalist/frontman Ian McCulloch conjured images of apocalyptic mayhem erupting in the corner pub and all of its universal ramifications while essentially being on a quest for a utopian grail. It was one of the greatest albums of its own or any time. So it seems fit that a psychedelic historian of Kelley Stoltz' caliber should recognize the genius of such a moment, and attempt to capture it in his own inimitable way by covering the entire album, song by song, on Crock O Dials. And as such, it is a triumph -- not only does it manage to remain faithful enough to be a sincere homage, it also dissects elements of the Bunnymen sound that illuminate their work in new ways. While the Bunnymen's modus operandi was derivative of the past, it was also always very forward-looking, and filtered the first psychedelic era through a post-punk haze, resulting in a rhythm section that locked in like none other before in rock music, allowing equally unconventional guitars and vocals to stray deep into the stratosphere. Stoltz manages to expose the late-'60s roots, his own particular forté, of the Bunnymen's futuristic explorations. Of the straightforwardly faithful renditions, "Going Up" opens with a neurotic intensity rivaling or even surpassing the original. "Do It Clean" brings a Brian Jonestown Massacre garage rock bent to the original. And "Rescue" and "Villier's Terrace" are so dead-on accurate as to be at first difficult to distinguish from the originals. Yet some tracks are re-imagined as only Stoltz could. "Stars Are Stars" strips the original down to a wistful acoustic ballad. "Read It in Books" is a spaghetti western saloon swinger. "Pride" outdoes the original for sheer flailing guitar bravado and frenetic pace, being bold enough to include a xylophone solo (an instrument the Bunnymen would use to more subtle effect on later albums). "All That Jazz" takes the most radical departure, its original stark martial gloom forsaken for a booze-soaked country lament. And "Monkeys" sounds like it was written for Stoltz, his swagger on a par with McCulloch's. For fans of either artist this document cannot come more highly recommended, and for the uninitiated it will open worlds. ~ Brian Way
