First, the back story.
At the end of a long jaunt around the USA opening for the Jimi Hendrix Experience, Kevin Ayers was exhausted from the grind of touring, quit Soft Machine, announced he was retiring from the music business, sold his bass to Noel Redding and retreated to the hippy haven of Ibiza.
Ayers had contributed much of the material for The Soft Machine, and had obviously impressed Hendrix, who presented him with an acoustic Gibson J-200 guitar on the last night of the tour, extracting a promise that Ayers would continue with the songwriting.
More than eighteen months later (Ayers was never a bloke to hurry about things, and I’ve seen his personality described as laissez-faire sloth) he was back in London at Abbey Road Studios cutting his first solo album with a little help from Robert Wyatt (drums) and David Bedford, who did the arrangements and contributed piano and mellotron. Ayers looked after the guitar and most of the bass parts, Softs mates Mike Ratledge and Hugh Hopper turned up on Song for Insane Times and the whole exercise cost the Harvest label a reasonably hefty £4000.
Eighteen months in the Mediterranean with an acoustic guitar is almost certain to produce something a fair bit more laid back than the manic organ/bass/drums conflagration that characterised his former outfit (they’d been known to do something like We Did It Again for a quarter of an hour when opening for Hendrix in the States) and from the start of the album it’s obvious he’s headed in another direction. Joy of a Toy Continued is an infectious la la singalong instrumental that bears absolutely no resemblance to the Softs as far as the instrumentation goes (brass, woodwinds, bass and drums, not an organ in sight) and not too much to the track on The Soft Machine that it supposedly continues. It is, however, something of an ear-worm.
Woodwinds and strings lead into Town Feeling and odd guitar solos fill in between verses that seem to be setting out to evoke a rural community where there might be something lurking below the surface. Today, the town seems like a tomb / Everybody’s locked up in his room delivers a hint of something, anyway.