CHRYSALIS
Definition (MGM; LP)
     Chrysalis: The pupa state of certain insects, especially of butterflies, from which the perfect insect emerges.
     This one-shot masterpiece from 1968 must rank amongst the most perfectly formed long players of the late '60s. Rarely has an album scaled such dizzying heights of poetry and performance only to be consigned to instant obscurity as swiftly as it appeared.
     The front cover shows a bookish, multi-racial six-piece (five guys and a girl) peering out through a cluster of thorny branches. The members are then named as Nancy Nain (vocals), Paul Album (bass, vocals), Dahaud Shaar (percussion), Jon Sabin (lead guitar, mandolin, vocals), Ralph Kotkov (keyboard instruments, vocals) and J Spider Barbour (leader, rhythm guitar, cicada, vocals). Barbour also contributes the wonderfully obtuse sleeve notes. The album has a gatefold sleeve that opens out to reveal a luxurious embossed silver image of the band. And if the packaging is a cut above the usual, just wait until you hear the music contained within.
     Opening track 'What Will Become Of The Morning' sets the tone. Electric piano, bass and drums are joined first by Barbour and Nain's harmonising then by choppy electric guitar, piano sped up so that it resembles a rather frenetic harpsichord and, on the middle eight, a flute (perhaps the mysteriously credited 'cicada', actually a type of locust which produces a high-pitched drone - more on that later). The vocals are folk-tinged and ethereal, the changes unpredictable and occasionally discordant and the whole thing has a decidedly jazzy edge. One can only assume that the musicians, particularly the drummer, had some grounding in this field, an assumption borne out by the band's New York origins and the MGM label.
     Next up is 'Lacewing' which, as its title implies, is so gossamer-light that its woodwind swells and whooshing cymbals threaten to blow off the turntable in the breeze. 'Cynthia Jerome', 'Lake Hope' and the exquisite 'Summer In Your Savage Eyes' are also gentler pieces in this mould though they sound totally unlike each other. On the punchier side are 'Father's Getting Old', '30 Poplar' and 'Piece Of Sun' which are taken at breakneck speed and add searing distorted lead guitar to the mix. 'Fitzpatrick Swanson' and 'Baby, Let Me Show You Where I Live' are as close as the album gets to regular happy-go-lucky '68 pop songs without ever sounding twee or shallow. The latter even throws in a spectacular raga section for good measure. 'April Grove' features a haunting solo vocal from Nain against a sparse jazz backing with liberal sprinklings of (what sound like) harp-like piano cascades. 'Dr Root's Garden' closes the album with its cheeky mixture of the sinister and the stoopid. Different band members take each verse in their best comedy voices before the track breaks down in a whirlwind of demonic laughter, white noise and fanfares. 
     Definition is all over in 32 minutes and, if you're anything like this listener, the only thing that can satisfy you following such a breathtaking trip is to flip it over and play it again. People often talk about having albums "on rotation". I can honestly say this is the only album I've listened to more than twice in one day. 
     Nearly 15 years after being presented with a tape of it by a knowing friend, ten years after scoring the long-gone vinyl boot and five years after getting a CD-R copy, this record continues to stagger me at every twist and turn. There's just so damn much happening. Once you've got into the tunes (and there are enough tunes here to keep most bands busy for their whole lives), there are the endlessly inspiring lyrics - "God is a ring of smoke wrapped around my finger, a wasp without a stinger buzzing in my ear" and "getting stoned watching meandering of swallow tails, following thistle blossom pollen trails" are just two passages that spring to mind - no "boy meets girl" stuff here! The sheer depth and detail of the playing and arrangements are mind-boggling and then there's the feel of the whole thing. This record sounds like it was created in a cocoon (sorry!), removed from the restraints of the music business and untouched by the vagaries of pop music in '68.
     Little is known of the musicians who created Definition. Certainly Chrysalis was Barbour's first musical endeavour of note which makes it all the more astonishing that he managed to come up with twelve songs and a vision of this calibre. He guested on Zappa's Lumpy Gravy which was cut in New York around the time Chrysalis were cutting their album and is still making music today as a member of The Curmudgeons. However, his real calling is as an ecologist, nature writer, columnist and breeder of silk moths, which explains the distinctly insect-based slant of the album. He's even dropped the 'James' and reverted to his nickname, Spider.
     Plans are underway (with a little help from your trusty SD team) for an official CD re-issue of Definition to be released with Spider and the band's full involvement. 
     Watch this space.
     If only we had cicadas in England…
Andy Morten