In 2022, the Cherry Red subsidiary label Grapefruit Records released ‘Deep In The Woods’, a 3CD collection of cult recordings from the late 60s and early 70s, which documented the trippier and occasionally proggier elements of folk rock. Featuring a host of familiar names along with some genuine obscurities, the lengthy listen played brilliantly, offering the more open minded prog fan and 70s rock buff a listen that relied on far more than easy nostalgia.
This second trip into the woods of experimentation – released in January 2025 – shouldn’t be considered a collection of “also rans”. At its best ‘The Magic Forest’ is every bit as enjoyable as ‘Deep In The Forest’, and although some of the same names are featured, the tracks that have been chosen are still very strong.
Mirroring its predecessor, this anthology kicks off with a track from Fat Mattress, a band rarely considered to be much more than a footnote in the Hendrix story. ‘Magic Forest’ – taken from their 1969 debut – opens with some strident acoustic work, before exploring a soundscape that sounds like ‘John Barleycorn’ era Traffic jamming on a deep cut from Manfred Mann. The harmony vocals are resolutely of a late 60s stock, but the hazy, folky groove that runs through the verses very much looks forward to the coming decade. With bags of melody and a genuinely feel good tone, this is the kind of track that acts as a reminder that Noel Redding’s post-Hendrix work deserves a little more love. Going deeper into a folk vein, ‘Dreams’ by The Woods Band adds a subtle banjo to a huge acoustic sound, immediately setting up some classic folk rock. There’s something in the verse’s melody that occasionally leans upon Led Zeppelin’s ‘Thank You’ for inspiration, but the chorus has more of a Steeleye Span quality thanks to the arrival of Gay Woods on second vocal, before the middle eight abandons all melody in favour of a busy, clattering jig. If it weren’t for the fact that Terry Woods has a terrible voice – he’s from the Dave Cousins school of folk rock warblers – this would be a perfect example of folk music reaching out to a more alternative crowd. Even with the dodgy vocals, it’s a great addition to this set.
A name that should be familiar to most, Affinity – a jazz rock/folk rock collective featuring vocalist Linda Hoyle – pull out the big guns with ‘Night Flight’, a key track from their debut LP. With a jazzy air during the track’s first half, Affinity immediately catch the ear as they begin to channel the quieter aspects of Jefferson Airplane and the acid folk of Linda Perhacs. A woozy melody underscored by a great bass (courtesy of Mo Foster) takes pride of place at first, but moving into more of a rhythmic groove, the melody grows to sits more comfortably within a late 60s idiom, as some terrific bass work continues to work itself beneath a jazz funk arrangement. Keys man Lynton Naiff proves himself a stout player, able to mix the melodic chops of Booker T. Jones with the anger of a young Jon Lord and, essentially, create something of a busy style all of his own, adding a great flair to an already great number. His forthright playing is the antithesis of Hoyle’s disquieting Grace Slick-esque moments on this track, but Affinity never sound less than one hundred percent sure of their crossover sound. Returning to the quiet elements from the intro, everything comes full circle, and a lesser band would consider this a job done. Not Affinity: they take the opportunity to add an instrumental coda where their jazz rock gets influenced by a very Latin groove; the effect of which is like stepping into a session for the Santana debut. Again, this is brilliantly handled. This track really should inspire people to check out the Affinity LP (at one time a genuine Vertigo Records rarity, but now easily obtainable on CD) if they’ve not already done so.
Prelude will always be remembered for their a cappella rendition of Neil Young’s ‘After The Goldrush’ (a UK top 30 hit in 1974), but there was always more to the band. They recorded a set of albums for the Dawn label between 1973-75, and ‘God’ – taken from 1973’s ‘How Long Is Forever’ – comes with a brilliant arrangement. The opening acoustic work – all finger picked motifs and repetition – immediately suggests something interesting, and the verse shares a melody that’s of the solid folk rock mould. The gentle melody is perfect for the purity of the vocal – a male/female duo, alternating, before sharing a huge harmony on the chorus – but it’s the louder moments of the track that stand out. In genuine folk rock fashion, there’s an emphasis on the rock in places thanks to a fuzzy electric guitar dropping in intermittently, but better yet is the live sounding bass that adds a really punchy heartbeat during the faster moments. The production style pushes that to the forefront of everything, and rightly so. Although Dave Peacock’s playing is never flashy, it has an impressive tone and presence. Between this and Chas Hodges’s work with Heads Hands & Feet, it’s clear that Chas & Dave wasted their talents for most of their careers with those Cock-er-nee sing-alongs and an abundance of end of the pier tat.
Among the lesser remembered names here, Aiden Nolan really stands out, since his ‘Out On A Limb’ sounds like an old Brian Protheroe tune that’s been subjected to vocal reverb and fuzz guitar. Presenting itself like something on the fringes of glam, it’s very “of its time”, but comes with an enjoyable melody and a carefree vibe that just…works. Kevin Lamb’s ‘Frost On The Pasture’ feels a little more ordinary at first, but there’s a pleasing blend unity between the shimmering guitar work and a very 70s sounding Fender Rhodes creating the core of the melody. The guitar playing conveys more than a hint of Anthony Phillips; the stately keyboard work carries hope of being a distant cousin of Paul Carrack. Lamb’s voice, meanwhile, sits somewhere to the left of the era’s more easy listening fare; he has a good tone, but not always the biggest presence. It could be argued that the track’s pastoral feel needs nothing bigger, of course, and a few plays will actually uncover a track that’s much better than the first listen suggests. That’s more than can be said for John Williams, whose ‘I Wonder Why’ sounds like little more than a Nick Drake prototype, complete with mournful cello in tow. It’s a bog standard folky tune anyway, but it might have fared better if Williams could actually sing. Everything feels so flat. If you’re interested in early 70s singer songwriters dabbling in folky arrangements, you’ll certainly have heard better. [Not to be confused with the Sky guitarist, this JW recorded some demos for Andrew Loog Oldham with Big Jim Sullivan and Little Jimmy Page, which later saw release as ‘The Maureeny Wishfull Album’, which is slightly better.]
A genuine mystery, little is known about what happened to Bruce Spelman after releasing his one and only album in 1972. That record (known as both ‘Bruce Spelman’ and the slightly off-putting ‘You Don’t Know What You’re Paddling In’) is a more than reasonable folk rock affair, showcasing some decent guitar work and some familiar melodies against a slightly flat British accent. ‘Sandcastes’ (as chosen to highlight the LP here) is a track of two halves: Spelman works some reasonable finger picked acoustic sounds at first, coupled with really uplifting lyrics like “we don’t know when we’re going to die”, before shifting gears to share some fuzzy electric sounds that are derived from Buffalo Springfield tunes like ‘Mr. Soul’. It’s a good tune; never great. That said, it’s very much the kind of thing these Grapefruit comps were made for, as is the equally niche Ancient Grease, who’s ‘Mystic Mountain’ sounds like The Hollies circa 1972 mangled by Lindisfarne. Despite its vocal flaws, it’s a track that works well, since the punchy bass and swirling organs set within a huge folk rock arrangement make it worth hearing. For fans of early 70s fare, it’s definitely a cool curio.
Carolanne Pegg seems to have spent a lifetime on the fringes of the Fairport Convention family tree. Her eponymously named long player from ’73 features some strong material, but ‘A Witch’s Guide To The Underground’ is a stand-out. Mixing a strong 70s pop undercurrent with light prog, the track presents a groove laden bassline and electric piano coming together in the manner of one of Curved Air’s more sedate arrangements, whilst Pegg shares a hushed vocal that draws more from a folk background. In terms of fusion, it’s lovely, and even a very stylised, curly voice doesn’t detract from a great melody. Elsewhere, Majority One sound like a poor man’s Honeybus on ‘Rainbow Rockin’ Chair’. Even though this track feels more like something from the second division, it’s likeable enough. The main melody never rises beyond a mid tempo affair of the easy listening kind, but the way slide guitar sounds are used to convey an ascent in a Gilmour-esque manner takes something bland and adds a light psych-y quality that makes it feel more like a cult recording deserving of a place here. There’s a return to more acoustic sounds on Siren’s ‘Asylum’, and musically, it’s a track that owes more than a little something to Bert Jansch. It’s definitely an acquired taste, though, since a Dylan-ish voice drops in and out, often with little regard to the melody in hand, which makes this feel more like one of The Incredible String Band’s wazzed out offerings. It might be one of ‘Magic Forest’s more forgettable inclusions, but it’s still likely to have a fan or two out there. In a piece of unfortunate sequencing, that’s made to sound worse than it probably is due to being followed by a piece of perfect pastoral beauty from John Peel favourite Bridget St. John. Her ‘Ask Me No Questions’ (from her 1969 album of the same name) takes an early ‘Seagull’ era blueprint from Joni and twists it into something undeniably British, with a pinch of Sandy Denny and Fairport flair. Years after release, Bridget’s deeper vocal tones really set this song apart from other British folk, and the harmonies – arriving late in the lengthy track – are absolutely wonderful.
Also enjoyable, ‘Aries’, a 1970 cut from Fairfield Parlour, sounds like a cross between the very British orchestral pop movement from the era and something from Lindisfarne. It’s another track that, despite an opinion-splitting vocal, is brilliantly arranged and dripping with a hippie imbibed atmosphere. By comparison, ‘Dawn’ by The Coterie veers far further towards a pure folk melody, sounding like an offcut from The Wicker Man soundtrack. Although the harmonies are strong and it’s enjoyable in its own unsettling way, this recording leaves a feeling that Irish band Mellow Candle were far better at this kind of thing. And Mellow Candle are here, too – and with the best number from their sole album (1972’s ‘Swaddling Songs’). ‘Sheep Season’ is a lovely, if slightly weird bugger of a thing: it sets an off kilter waltz in place, adds some jazz bass – particularly high in the mix – and then offsets the superb melodic elements with a wisp-like, haunting vocal melody that draws influence from British folk to create one of the era’s finest hybrid sounds. That’s not all: when the soaring, singular voice reaches the number’s inevitable climax, the Shelagh McDonald-esque tones are joined by a second female voice in harmony to deliver a really off-centre sound that reinforces the feeling that this short-lived band were still clinging on to the remnants of psych, long after musical fashions had changed. [A point of interest for the keen rock fan: not long before Mellow Candle recorded their fine LP, vocalist Clodagh Simonds provided backing vocals on Thin Lizzy’s debut album. It remains her closest brush with fame.]
Providing some strange acoustic thrills, ‘Fading Light’ by Forest applies the busier elements of Roy Harper’s early work with a careening approach that allows some of the more psychedelic elements of Incredible String Band’s freewheeling folk to blend in, and Alan Hull’s ‘Picture A Little Girl’ sounds like an early demo from Al Stewart, but has some appeal due to its absolute purity, both in the raw guitar sounds and Hull’s slightly flat vocal delivery. For the more adventurous ear, there’s a strong prog/jazz thread running through ‘Cycle’ by Julian Jay Savarin, with a really busy intro leading to a waltz dominated interlude, before settling into a grand, and rather busy piece that blends the best bits of Affinity and ‘Turn of The Cards’ era Renaissance. Topped with enthusiastic vocals (courtesy of Catapilla’s Jo Meek), this is one of the best prog-ish tunes you’ve likely never heard. Also exploring the world of jazz fusion is a version of ‘Summertime’ by Oberon which features Tull-esque flute work and Ric Sanders style violin throughout. Unfortunately, a rather spirited arrangement of the old standard is somewhat spoilt by a fairly tuneless voice. Another track where interesting ideas are marred by poor-ish execution, ‘The Witch’ by Mark Fry takes Indian influences and dark folk elements and mangles them into something that sounds like a haunting overspill from Dr. John’s ‘Gris Gris’. It’s one of those tunes that is interesting to a point, but doesn’t really sustain repeated listens. Luckily, these two relative misfires are kept apart with the help of Tim Rose’s ‘If I Were A Carpenter’ which re-imagines the Tim Hardin classic it as if it were a left over from Led Zeppelin’s debut, flaunting some fine bluesy guitar and a very muscular bass, without detracting from a slightly psychy tone.
An instant standout, nestled somewhere in the middle of disc one, Paul Brett’s double pronged ‘Empty Dreams/Flying Machines’ is lovely. The intro shares some very busy acoustic work, sitting somewhere between one of Steve Howe’s acoustic pieces and Ant Phillips circa 1970, before veering off into a mournful ballad where a heartfelt voice is underscored by sweeping violin, warm bass and and an almost dream-like mood. It stands out from very first listen; on the second and third plays, it becomes clear why it’s so lovely. The lack of drums and other percussion allows the folky melody to really soar. Paul doesn’t have anything bombastic to hide behind. The stripped down feel also makes it feel sadder in a way, and it’s definitely a must hear. Brett will be known to some as a collaborator with Strawbs, Al Stewart, Roy Harper and others, and he appears again here with Harper on ‘Sophisticated Beggar’, a stripped down folky number that utilises twin guitar riffs in a way that makes them sound much broader, as if a twelve string is being used. Its nice to have a light shone upon Brett’s work.
In a style quite removed from the bulk of this set, Marsha Hunt’s ‘Southern Man’ reworks the old Neil Young tune into a rather sinister slice of funk. Her enormous, soulful voice soars above busy bass grooves; instrumental breaks work a wah-wah guitar rather hard, and chorale vocals stoke up the haunting feel throughout. It’s one of those covers that’s almost unrecognisable at first, but once you tune in, it becomes great in its own way. Although her cover of Dr. John’s ‘I Walk On Guilded Splinters’ will always be Hunt’s finest moment – and is arguably the definitive version of the song – this deserves to be heard by a much wider audience than it’s been afforded in the past. Another semi-obscurity from the Dawn label, ‘Yellow Roses’ by Heron features some great, fey sounding harmonies on a percussion-free tune, driven by acoustic guitar and piano. Like a cousin to Al Stewart’s early folk oriented recordings, it doesn’t ever rush, and sounds perfect in the right setting, and a similar vibe can be found via ‘Missed My Times’ by The Occasional Word, a tune that favours natural vocals against shimmering acoustics. A moment or two dictated by unexpected slide work steers everything towards something a little more bluesy, but for fans of stripped down, semi-folky fare, it’ll present another welcome listen.
On top of all of that, and other cult fare, this enjoyable set is fleshed out with a few very familiar names. There’s an excellent solo cut from Sandy Denny, a number from her album with Fotheringay, a deeper cut from Honeybus – a pleasant reminder that there was always more to them than the lovely pop of ‘I Can’t Let Maggie Go’ – and even something from Tomorrow’s Keith West, which doesn’t have the memorability of his ‘Grocer Jack’ from the abandoned Mark Wirtz ‘A Teenage Opera’, but still helps to make this box set a well-rounded affair.
As with any great compilation, there’s stuff here among the sprawling musical selection (covering sixty one tracks in all) that’ll be brand new to even the most knowledgable music fan. In terms of raiding the archives, ‘The Magic Forest’ is fun, fascinating and very gently weird in almost equal measure. If you’re into the more psych-esque end of folk and also the subgenres of prog that invite bands like Strawbs and Pentangle to the table, this triple disc set should definitely be considered an unconventional treat.
Buy the box set here.
January 2025