It’s a testament to the bounty of resources within the original five-man lineup of Moby Grape that, even without founding member and linchpin of the group Skip Spence, the remaining quartet produced an album as stylish and durable as Moby Grape ’69 (released on 1/30/69).
This third album by the woefully overlooked group is all more impressive with the benefit of a half-century plus hindsight. Not only does it sound like a natural progression from the sterling eclectic blend on the band’s eponymous debut, but it also represents a most admirable return to form after the free-wheeling experimentation in production and arrangement that was the band’s 1968 sophomore outing, a double-album package titled Wow/Grape Jam.
The more rootsy virtues of the following year’s Grape collection loom increasingly large over time. From the extended perspective of over a half-century, ’69 stands as a flashpoint of the marriage between rock and country: begun by The Byrds the year prior with Sweetheart of the Rodeo and continued by the prime motivator of that iconic American band’s change in direction, Gram Parsons, the father of ‘cosmic American music’ led the Flying Burrito Brothers on their debut The Gilded Palace of Sin.
The most remarkable distinction between the two coincidental releases is David Rubinson’s slightly less-than-thirty-minute production. The man who’d also overseen the band’s previous studio outings–plus work by Herbie Hancock and Santana, among others–prevents the very self-consciousness flaunted by Parsons and company. The quartet shuffles along with ease on the opener “Ooh Mama Ooh,” while maintaining a similarly sure grasp of a modified pace during their performance of the acoustic-based “Ain’t That A Shame.”
The group vocal harmonies that decorate those tracks with such a radiant glow are as important as the effortlessly unified gait of the musicians. And Moby Grape retains a sure grasp of dynamics throughout the entire LP: the slightly forlorn “I Am Not Willing” resides utterly comfortably next to those preceding tracks so replete with gaiety (that bright atmosphere a direct reflection of the sun-drenched portrait of the band, forward-looking to a man, adorning the album cover).
Likewise, the somewhat subdued “It’s A Beautiful Day Today.” With its sweet circular guitars and voices–plus tuneful whistling around its mid-point–this track rests at a midpoint of intensity amid its surroundings. The blues-derived “Hoochie” is a marked contrast to what precedes it, but it’s hardly a non-sequitur: its structure, not to mention the drive of the band in motion, renders it a piece with the aforementioned opener.
Bassist Bob Mosley composed and sang lead on the latter, effectively setting up the more reflective efforts of guitarist Peter Lewis. The natural intonations of his vocal delivery on “If You Can’t Learn From My Mistakes” and “What’s to Choose” mirror the author’s fluent fingerpicking on guitar and, in turn, his playing as complement to the staccato, blues-derived style of Jerry Miller (pictured on the CD insert).
Crucially, though, both fretboarders contribute to the layered harmony singing on this pair of cuts, a sonorous element bringing to mind the arguably inferior release of Crosby, Stills, and Nash later in this same year. Missing from that more high-profile but patchwork title is the continuity within Moby Grape ’69 a rare quality that permeates all eleven tracks, including the jaunty (self-referential?) rock and roll of Miller and drummer Don Stevenson’s “Going Nowhere,” then on right through to the final number here. On ‘Skippy”s own “Seeing,” the one-time drummer in Jefferson Airplane (circa 1966’s Takes Off LP) sounds like he’s channeling his comrades as he wails ‘Save me!?.’
Moby Grape’s career was fraught with missteps, some but not all of which were of their own making. But the various faux pas, dating back to the overblown hype afforded their first long-player on Columbia Records, unfortunately, undermined the credibility of both the group at large and its work.
Released in expanded form in 2007–with all the original Grape titles then, quickly pulled off the market due to yet another legal maneuver by ‘manager’ Matthew Katz–Moby Grape ’69 deserves to hold as much of a hallowed position in the annals of contemporary rock as its peers’ title issued about a week later.
Like the unsung Bay Area ensemble, named after a loopy stoner joke, this undeservedly overlooked effort presents a mature and authentic take on the encyclopedic approach of its legendary predecessors. And its fifty-year milestone further solidifies it as an important point of reference in the contemporary evolution of musical hybrids a la Americana.
