
Loose, communal, and steeped in American myth. These 1967 basement recordings trade stadium rock for a dusty, private world of surreal folk and organ-drenched soul.
It's like hanging out in a 1960s basement while the greatest songwriter ever tries to make his friends laugh.
A communal, dusty warmth that balances absurdist humor with moments of profound, weary wisdom.
The vocals lean far further into raw than the rest of the catalogue.
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