Every Picture Tells A Story

And what a great picture it is. Without knowing who it is we can tell the story here - a couple of guys just gone their separate ways. Nothing to say to each other any more. They're both walking away with the defensive hands-in-pockets, hunched shoulders attitude common to young men at that time. Early seventies, and the UK's brief burst of psychedelic color was gone like a train. Hair, coats and faces were worn long. The "counterculture" - such as it was - was becoming politicized in the cities or dispersing into idealized rural communities isolated from anything approaching actual work. The common denominator among young people was dealing with the death of the dream; living was suddenly about survival, and the vacation was over.

Keith Cross and Peter Ross have interesting histories - if you don't know them, they're worth the research. They came together to make one of the loveliest and most surprising albums of the uncertain times that haunting cover image reflected so accurately. It may be a great photograph, but it's a terrible cover for the album. You'd expect a dour, depressed set of songs, some plodding white-boy blues. And you'd be wrong. Bored Civilians - great title - is as close to sunsoaked West Coast vibes as any UK musicians got. The opening track, The Last Ocean Rider, is simply luscious - seven minutes of harmony singing building into an ecstatic wave of guitars - when the pedal steel hits in, you're blissed out. If you like this - and you will - you'll embrace the album like an old friend.

Although that image is artistically true - neither musician has fond memories of the album - it must have crippled sales. But that broken relationship resulted in an album that everyone who's heard it cherishes forever. 

This is the Korean (I think) re-release with the added single as a real bonus.