Silver Apples were one of those bands whose legacy survives much longer than their initial output. The band surfaced in New York in 1969 and built an American outpost of Krautrock-indebted psychedelics that relied on the rhythmic chug of drummer Danny Taylor and flew outward toward cosmic impulses with the electronic work of singer Simeon. Simeon (singularly named) played an instrument that he named after himself, a setup that consisted of oscillators triggered by the hands, knees and feet. The rack contained twelve oscillators, telegraph keys, and assorted bits of radio broadcast gear. Their debut is by all means, a most uncommercial record, but the band had a growing reputation in the psychedelic underground and became a highly touted live experience.
The record was not a success by any degree, but it did spawn a follow-up, Contact, in the following year. Then, after that record was meat with similar sales, they all but disappeared until the time when reissues initially began to pop up around 1996 and a third record The Garden came to light and brought them back into public consciousness. Jackpot is putting the classic first LP back into hands again and the record is every bit as bracing, weird and oddly rhythmic as its always been. The influence can be felt spilling over into bits of Suicide’s first LP, Broadcast’s singed wire pop and Stereolab’s psychedelic burble. For a record who’s initial output was so coldly received, reissues rarely stick around long. Its a psychedelic artifact that’s as captivating as it is curious.
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