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This record begins on a low note with a cover of ‘Ticket to Ride’, which is nowhere as good as the original, let alone better, or interestingly different. From there on it is downhill all the way.
For what ever reason the band decided to strip out of the songs the very elements that made them great, so as to leave mediocre pap.
They should have been prosecuted for crimes against music for they way they murdered ‘Eleanor Rigby’.
The reason that the 60s stand out as a golden period of music is the wide variety of bands playing original music across a wide spectrum of genres or if playing covers doing so in a way outstandingly different from the first-time round. Examples that immediately come to mind are ‘The Byrds’ with ‘Mister Tambourine Man’, ‘Cream’ with ‘Crossroads’ and ‘The Jimi Hendrix Experience’ with ‘All Along the Watchtower’. V.F. are not anyway near the same ball-park’ or seem to understand what was needed.
While this is not the worst album that I have ever bought, that dubious accolade still goes to the sh-one-t inflicted on the public by the direly pretentious and egotistical ‘Firehose’s Ragin’ Full On’, this effort from V.F. certainly vies for a place at the bottom of the heap. While I literally threw the former in the bin once I had endured it, forlornly hoping that it would get better, which it didn’t, this will shortly find itself gathering dust in a charity shop.
Looking at the photo of them in ’67 they have not moved on very far from the ‘college boy’ look of the ‘50s. They look totally ‘unhip’ and unconnected to ‘the scene’ of the time, ‘The Summer of Love’ and ‘The Happening’ in San Francisco, unlike for example ‘Scott Mackenzie’, ‘The Flowerpot Men’ or ‘The Animals.
This lot were not icons nor influencers of music in the 60s, in fact at the time most people had never heard of them, and no doubt continue to live in blissful ignorance of their existence; and from this example of their work I am not surprised.
This is not an example of great 60s music, but that which is most forgettable, and generally has been forgotten. If this wasn’t the worst album to come out in ’67, then it must come pretty close, and I wouldn’t want to hear the one that beat it to the bottom.
Do not be mesmerised or seduced by all the surrounding ‘Siren’ voices or you may well end up in ‘The Slough of Despond’, to mix metaphors. Save your money. Playing time just over 42 ½ mins.