Caravan

Caravan (1968)

1. Place of My Own - 4:01
2. Ride - 3:42
3. Policeman - 2:44
4. Love Song with Flute - 4:10
5. Cecil Rons - 4:07
6. Magic Man - 4:03
7. Grandma's Lawn - 3:25
8. Where but for Caravan would I? - 9:01

Caravan is a band that wanted desperately to be cutting edge, far out, countercultural, and generally mind-blowing, and that intention is trumpeted in the vapid liner notes (granted, penned by someone not in the band): “Who knows what you will find, this is a journey at the end of the 20th century, lift the yashmaks & see: Loplop, the Superior of the Birds, little bubbles of sound breaking through dry sound. CARAVAN making huge music constructions right out there in the open where everyone can see.” Gag.

The truth of the matter is, Caravan was a rock band with above average instrumental talent and average songwriting abilities. In some cases, the playing rescues the tune; in others, a certain warmth lifts the song out of the crowded pool of British psychedia. This being the first album, they did have a few stumbles.

First, the highlights: bandleader Pye Hastings' brother Jimmy drops by for an improvised flute solo on the aptly titled “Love Song with Flute.” Supposedly captured in a single take, it's a soaring, fluid solo over a full verse and chorus. The rest of the band provides enthusiastic backing, and the song itself is a simple, pretty tune. Bass player Richard Sinclair provides some lighter, humorous diversions with “Policeman” and “Grandma's Lawn.” However, the true hit is the closing epic “Where but for Caravan would I?”. It starts as a lilting breeze in 11/8, floating on lightly strummed guitar and mellow organ as Pye sings a groovy philosophical rumination:

Don't try to find stars in my eyes
We've been there before - and seen...
Just take what you need to find the sun
For you and I, we have the dream to come

Okay, so it's kind of cheesy lyrically. But a few minutes in, this hippy anthem morphs through a dramatic series of chord changes into an aggressive jam, still in 11/8. Dave Sinclair's organ leads the way, with cousin Richard's bass growling away underneath. After some excellent soloing, the jam restates the verse/chorus that preceded it and transitions into the second part of the song, a more up-tempo celebration in a more friendly time signature. Caravan's epics would achieve greater heights, but this first fruit is tasty in its own right.

Now for the bad news: all the other songs are kind of mediocre and forgettable. While pleasant enough as vintage late 60s rock music, they are in no way distinguishable, except for “Cecil Rons,” which gets negative points for ruining a promising baroque organ theme with cacophonic yelling and screaming. The sound of a band trying too hard...

Arbitrary rating: 3.5 out of 5 groovy philosophical ruminations