Whenever psychedelic and swinging London appears in documentary footage, there’s always a tendency to suggest, to those of later generations, that Joe Boyd’s short-lived UFO club was where everybody hung out. This is largely to do with an easily available and well circulated clip of Syd Barrett and The Pink Floyd hammering through ‘Astronomy Domine’ against a home made light show. The late 60s saw lots of other underground activity, not least of all at UFO’s successor, Middle Earth.

An alternative club situated, at first, in the Covent Garden area and later relocated to the now legendary Roundhouse in Chalk Farm, Middle Earth is now famous for being the venue where Led Zeppelin played officially for the first time, but it was also host to many other greats, including Jefferson Airplane, The Doors, and even The Byrds, at the point where they were laying the foundations for country rock with the help of Gram Parsons.

This three disc set from Strawberry Records offers a brilliant and pleasingly broad overview of the sounds that made Middle Earth move. Its selection of tunes includes a reasonable amount of familiar material – including tracks from Traffic, Fairport Convention, Family, Tim Buckley, Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac and others – but as with any great Grapefruit set, its real strength comes with an ability to highlight some of the era’s obscurities, cult nuggets and deep cuts.

On that score, this has been very well curated. You’ll find a selection of b-sides, from acts that are already relatively niche, acting as the set’s backbone. A cut from 1968, ‘Black Snake’ by Junior’s Eyes – the band who’d eventually back Bowie on the second (and hit) version of ‘Space Oddity – captures the era rather well on a lesser heard track. The stabbed piano that’s used as an intro gives little indication of what’s in store, but the band slides pretty quickly into an R&B groove overlaid by lead guitar, bringing strange psych-esque tones. The rhythm section continue to work a hard edged sound that allows the track to seem almost danceable, even heard decades on, but a spoken word interlude and a couple of other detours ensure this isn’t your average crowd pleaser or floor filler. No strangers to regular buyers of psych comps, Picadilly Line offer something a little more pastoral with ‘How Could You Say You’re Leaving Me’, a fantastically arranged piece that blends pop harmonies with baroque orchestral backing akin to a great Honeybus track. A few drums worthy of a beat group and a prominent oboe are more than enough to signify the 1967 heritage here, but a lyric that depicts the protagonist’s about-to-exit partner as wearing a velvet cloak really seals the deal. It’s certainly very much “of its time”, but that doesn’t stop it being a superb track and a great alternative to the similar fare that gets wheeled out more often.

Tales of Justine only released one single during their all too brief lifetime. ‘Albert’ is a reasonable piece of late 60s pop – all jaunty rhythms and slightly fey vocals, used to deliver a narrative about feeding lemons to a sunflower – but it’s the b-side ‘Monday Morning’ (featured here) that shows off the band with a little more potential. It works a more traditional beat group sound and places the focus on a slightly reverbed guitar, which adds a pleasingly jangly edge behind some melodic vocals. The middle eight adds a subtle string part which carries through to the subsequent chorus, ensuring this has broad appeal. It then plays as if the band gets distracted, and a middle eight brings in a harder edged sound, almost like something lifted from ‘Shades of Deep Purple’. Overall, though, this is a very strong three minute workout, and thanks to a great arrangement, it actually feels like longer in a positive way. Adding a layer of jazz to a 60s rock backdrop, ‘Grey Man’ by Paper Blitz Tissue starts very interestingly indeed, but it’s not long before the band retreat into fairly safe territory and hammer through a number that sounds like a mix of Tomorrow and The Who. Although most of the elements here will feel immediately familiar, it’s clear that this short-lived band had something of musical interest. Drummer Dave Dufort’s contribution is potentially the most striking, but vocalist Bernie Lee also sounds like a star in the making. It’s interesting how much the jazz guitar parts sound like a pre-Yes Steve Howe in places, too. Unfortunately, it’s not, but Howe’s legion of fans will find him hiding elsewhere within this sixty four track journey as a member of The In Crowd, whose ‘Am I Glad To See You’ appears as a demo recording. It’s lacking in finesse – particularly in the drum part, which makes Dave Clark sound like Bill Bruford – but there’s the makings of a solid 60s jam here, with Keith West in decent voice, and a catchy hook that makes the clunky arrangement rather more forgivable.

Elsewhere, you’ll find other future Yes-men still attempting to carve out their name within Mabel Grier’s Toyshop. Their ‘Images of You & Me’ was recorded in 1968 but remained unreleased until 2018. The opportunity to revisit it here is most welcome. From the moment the track begins, it’s clear that it’s Peter Banks on guitar: you’ll hear the huge, almost jangling sound that filled the Yes debut a year later. He may well dominate here, but there are other bigger points of interest throughout. It’s interesting to hear drummer Robert Hagger moving effortlessly between jazz, rock and militaristic rhythms, and also impressive how the band manage to weave harmony vocals and almost psychedelic touches between his dominant performance without anything feeling messy. Holding everything together is a superb bass part from Chris Squire – low in the mix in places, but sharing a classic and unmistakable tone. By the time the band reaches the instrumental break, with Banks adding a soaring riff over a whole world of drums, bass and keys, it’s clear that this lays the foundations for the first two Yes albums. The only missing ingredient is vocalist Jon Anderson, who still failing to make a mark as “Hans Christian” around this time. The formative works of the mighty Yes get a look in here via their debut single ‘Sweetness’ which, compared to the Mabel track feels a little light, but on its own terms, is absolutely gorgeous. There’s unlikely to be anyone thinking about adding this box set to their collection that won’t have heard this tune, of course, but its inclusion here provides a welcome reminder of an inventive early Yes, fixated on a light psychedelic beauty, and yet to descend into a world of self-indulgence.

Another genuine treat here is a sassy cover of The Velvet Underground’s ‘Waiting For The Man’ driven by stabbed piano, descending bass and a hastily honked sax. The Riot Squad’s treatment of the classic track transforms it into something a little more interesting – and warmer sounding – and the interplay between the musicians is great. There’s greater interest from the vocal, however; the slightly detached performance comes from none other than a young David Jones, soon to reinvent himself as David Bowie. For those hoping to find something a little more within the straight ahead R&B mould, Graham Bond’s ‘Strange Times, Sad Times’ is likely to be an immediate hit. The track works a busy organ against a gruff vocal, but never feels too rough thanks to a buoyant bassline and female harmonies continually providing a more melodic counterpoint. It sounds far more like something that would have been a staple of the era’s mod clubs, but it certainly doesn’t feel out of place here. That honour goes to the annoying rock ‘n’ roll pastiche ‘Canyons of Your Mind’ by the opinion-dividing Bonzo Dog (Doo-Dah) Band [mis-credited as The Bonzo Doo Dah Dog Band]. This track fills three minutes with a horrible croon and a sub Elvis backdrop; it sounds like something the DJ would have stuck on to remind everyone that it’s time to go home… It’s a rare misstep within an otherwise great set: Bonzos fans will already own it and love it, and almost everyone else will consider it a tuneless annoyance. It’s a track that’s on a losing wicket either way, but luckily it’s been placed right at the end of one of the discs, so it’s easy to avoid.

Another slice of very pleasingly offbeat 60s pop, ‘Magic Train’ by The Flies sounds like a strange hybrid of Manfred Mann and early Traffic, and applies a world of “toytown pop” lyrics to a rhythmically busy backdrop. There are great bass and guitar parts throughout, but if anything advertises its alternative 60s agenda, it’s the unexpected blasts of brass that arrive belatedly to flesh out the number’s climax. This is one of those numbers that, even if played on repeat, never seems to get old, and the same can be said for the Driscoll/Auger composition ‘A Kind of Love In’, a heavily orchestrated beat-pop number that’s so multi-layered, it’s almost possible to pick out something new on each spin. Brian Auger’s keys provide a great counterpoint to the brass, and although she’s in danger of being swamped, Julie Driscoll appears in great voice. If nothing else, it’s a real pleasure to hear something that isn’t ‘This Wheel’s On Fire’.

Flying the flag for some of this set’s less accessible material, the Third Ear Band’s ‘Raga #1’ presents seven minutes’ worth of sax noises weaving in and out of a traditional Indian raga – it’s fine enough, but why anyone would listen to this when there are Ravi Shankar albums close at hand is anyone’s guess – and ‘Prayer For Peace’ by Amalgam, which is heavy on the soprano sax and loose droning sounds, bridging the gap between deep psych and free jazz. Again, it’s the kind of track that probably worked better in context, but heard five decades later, it sounds like a pale imitation of its American influences. After a couple of minutes, the semi-atonal elements are rather tiring. Bizarrely, The Incredible String Band – who could normally be guaranteed to contribute a skippable track to any Grapefruit compilation – are actually represented with something half decent. ‘Way Back In The 60s’ mixes folk elements with more Indian flourishes, and ends up sounding like a deep cut from Donovan. Granted, you’ll find better material on this comp, but it’s nice to hear something by ISB that at least gives an indication of why some folks liked ’em back in the day.

Due to some fairly atonal sax work and off-kilter piano work in the Theloneous Monk tradition, ‘Up To Earth’ by the Chris McGregor Septet could’ve easily fallen into the “thanks, but no” category. However, there’s something about this semi-improvised piece that seems to work. The piano work builds into a sprawling, almost carefree flurry; the sax soon follows with a solo that falls somewhere between Archie Shepp and Dexter Gordon having a strange moment, and the clattering rhythms give the vibe of a band who are deep in the moment…and really couldn’t care if the audience is with them. The title track from the group’s 1968 LP, this recording sat in the vaults for decades. In jazz terms, it’s not a world beater – and the same could be said for the LP itself – but those who aren’t afraid of some of jazz’s more indulgent tendencies will certainly get a kick out of the noise being woven here.

Another Indian themed number, Blonde On Blonde’s ‘All Day, All Night’ takes influence from The Kinks’ ‘See My Friends’ and George Harrison’s ‘Wonderwall Music’ and creates something brilliant. The way the 60s pop vocals sweep through the more pointed elements of the arrangement offers something unmistakably “1968”, and is very much the kind of track that will inspire listeners to dig a little deeper into the band’s history. More sitars grace ‘Soma (Parts 1 & 2)’ by the should’ve been bigger Dantalion’s Chariot, but they aren’t always as appealing as this instrumental’s combination of flute and bass, both of which provide a great melodic heart. Elsewhere, The Deviants’ ‘Garbage’ still sounds like one of the psych era’s defining cuts with its layers of distortion, and ‘Yellow Brick Road’ shows off the early Captain Beefheart as being a more than competent practitioner of hard edged R&B, sounding like Them played back from the end of an echoing tunnel. There are glimmers of oddness here, but absolutely nothing to suggest that the almost impenetrable (and uncategorisable) ‘Trout Mask Replica’ is just a couple of years away.

Another stand-out track comes from Barclay James Harvest. ‘Poor Wages’, a recording from 1969, still very much clings onto a sixties vibe with a busy drum part and organ that both owe more to psych and The Moody Blues than the more indulgent prog sounds that were becoming more in fashion at the time. Despite being a short tune, the band pack the piece with some great elements: the lead guitar comes with a great reverb sound; the droning backdrop brings a sinister tone to an otherwise breezy melody and a very 60s vocal sets everything off brilliantly. A largely forgotten name from the late 60’s, The Sleepy sound like the kind of act that should’ve been massive. ‘Love’s Immortal Fire’ blends R&B grooves with jazz flutes to create something that sounds like a soundtrack to a film montage from the era, and the beat group meets psych vibes that are constantly given off are absolutely intoxicating. Factor in a big chorus hook, a really tight rhythm section, a perfect production job and backing from a major record label (in this case, CBS), it’s possibly proof that the pop scene was a little too crowded. Band member David Foster would later find himself on the cusp of fame, however: he’s credited as co-writer on two tracks from the Yes LP ‘Time And A Word’, including the well-known title track. For those yet to hear this flop single from The Sleepy, you’re about to experience something rather special.

The Mindbenders will always be best remembered for their hazy ballad ‘A Groovy Kind of Love’ (thanks, Phil), but ‘Uncle Joe, The Ice Cream Man’ shares a very different sound. As suggested by its title, this track is a superb piece of toytown inspired pop, complete with jaunty rhythms, a prominent bass, whimsical strings and a titular man who seems very nice to the local kids. With a modern ear, it’s hard not to treat this kind of thing with suspicion, but it’s great fun, and absolutely perfectly arranged. Driven by a fiery guitar part and featuring harmonica playing almost worthy of John Mayall, you’ll also uncover a great bluesy workout from Killing Floor, whose ‘Forget It!’ sounds like a supercharged Them hammering through The Yardbirds’ ‘I Wish You Would’ by way of The Animals, and the thrills are so rough and ready, it makes Chicken Shack’s ‘Worried About My Woman’ seem half-arsed. Obviously, with Stan Webb’s guitar work being more than fine and a bright sounding organ fleshing out a reasonably uptempo arrangement, the band more than demonstrate why they were one of the best loved acts originating from the British blues boom. However, compared to Peter Green, the vocals here aren’t particularly good. It actually leaves the listener wondering why Stan would sing at all, when Christine Perfect (later McVie) is just there, and very much available… Still, quibbles aside, it remains a blues number with a lot to recommend it. Also taking a bluesy stance, a cover of ‘Wang Dang Doodle’ from the early Dave Edmunds vehicle Love Sculpture breathes an almost R&B-like sassiness into the old Howlin’ Wolf tune. There’s a great bassline running through the upbeat rendition, which more than compliments a steady drum part supplied by future Sassafras man Rob “Congo” Jones. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve heard a number of bands putting their mark on this now “standard”; this 1968 cut from a great Welsh band has a pleasing vitality, making it a recording that’s aged particularly well.

Those who’ve bought titles from Grapefruit Records’ “British Psychedelic Sounds” series will undoubtedly recognise many of the names here and even some of the lesser known material chosen, but ‘Middle Earth: The Soundtrack of London’s Legendary Psychedelic Club 1967-1969’ is still the kind of box set that crate diggers and 60s junkies will love. It flows well; it offers plenty of urgent sounds; it even feels comforting in a weird way, since from the outset – or at least about five tracks in – it feels right: it feels pretty much unmistakably like a release from a Cherry Red Records subsidiary label. In terms of broad compilations that present psychedelia in as accessible a way possible, this document celebrating Middle Earth and its many associates makes for a largely brilliant listen.

February 2025