Kicking off side two, STP Song (Stampfel's preferred title August 1967) was an attempt, while under the influence of the powerful hallucinogen, to write a song inextricably linked to a particular time frame that simultaneously captured the essence of the STP experience. Which is, I guess (never having travelled those paths) the sort of thing that those stimulants might prompt you to try.
Oh, and do it all in a minute and twelve seconds.
After the STP commercial part (have a revelation, the first one's free/Soon you'll be addicted to eternity) there's a chilling summary of what was happening in a lot of cases as unattainable idealism, the If you're going to San Francisco flowers in your hair vibe got transformed by the sordid reality of what many of the travellers found when they got there (Seems he was a flower child just last week/Now he's got the clap and just a needle freak).
Interlude 2, a rather tasty little guitar instrumental with some verbal ramblings from Stampfel and Sam Shepard, was another favourite crossfade between otherwise incompatible tracks back in the radio show days. Like Stampfel I would have preferred it to go on a little longer - the music's some of the best playing on the album - but (despite suggestions that large quantities of material ended up on the cutting floor) you can only work with what you've got.
Finally, there's the odd pairing of Half A Mind and The Pledge, which I regarded as evidence of the unhinged chemical shenanigans that were going on nearby. Half A Mind is a remarkable rant that leaves you wondering exactly what it was about (you get the general gist, but it's the specifics that I end up wondering about) while The Pledge was originally part of a Stampfel scheme to record patriotic standards with new warped lyrics, culminating with a totally straight choral version of America the Beautiful.
It didn't quite work out that way, though, and with the choral part in the can and Stampfel unable to do the lead vocal justice, it apparently became necessary to have Sam Shepard intone the Pledge of Allegiance over the choral background, something he wasn't able to bring off due to an unexpected memory (chemical induced?) lapse.
Half a capsized mind, indeed.
To this day Stampfel is fairly consistently dismissive of the album, but I must admit to having loved every one of its twenty-six and a bit minutes for a good forty years.
Oh, and, given the slightest encouragement I will serenade the neighbourhood with my imitation of The Werewolf, a rendition that has been known (and I have witnesses) to still the drunken carousals of the local Rugby club.
Strange and terrible, indeed.
Now, about those remaining items in the Rounders’ back catalogue. We’ll be needing to replace some of this vinyl...