Many thanks to Nigel Cross for making a copy of the original article available.

“Fabulous band—by far and away one of the best West Coast groups” – Zigzag

There must be something in the air in L.A., besides photochemical smog, to make it the home of such a lot of fine music, and none finer than that produced at their peak by the Kaleidoscope, one of the best and least well-known bands from that city. There are at last signs of interest in this now defunct band, the highest accolade recently given them was by Jimmy Page in a recent Zigzag… “They’re my favourite band of all time - my ideal band…absolutely brilliant,” and I can only hope for their sakes that his recommendation sends a few of Led Zeppelin’s followers to the quest of their albums. It’s often difficult to say why any band achieves popularity, if good music were enough then the Kaleidoscope and many many more would be superstars by now.

It seems all the more difficult to explain why Kaleidoscope failed to make it at a time when West Coast music was all the rage and names like the Doors, Country Joe and the Fish or the Airplane were dropped in music circles as often as those of the Stones or the Beatles. Record company executives wanted the West Coast sound, and at first cautiously, with the exception of the magnificent Elektra, all the major companies acquired at least one; then events mushroomed and somewhere along the line Kaleidoscope signed to Epic, which at this time Columbia/CBS seemed to reserve for groups it wasn’t sure about. Their first album, Side Trips, was released in May/June 1967 within a couple of months of the finest albums by some many first generation West Coast bands, Surrealistic Pillow, Electric Music for the Mind and Body, Moby Grape, Buffalo Springfield, but it failed to get associated with them. Their second, A Beacon from Mars was released in December 1967/January 1968, it too failed to get caught up with all those second generation bands like Spirit and Steppenwolf that did so well at this time, or with first generation bands like Quicksilver and Steve Miller who had hung out for a better deal, or with others creating masterpieces like Forever Changes and Buffalo Springfield Again. In addition they lacked any feedback from England, which explains a lot of the success of many Frisco and L.A. bands outside of their own locale, notably Love and Captain Beefheart or those like them for whom tours and personal appearances were rare. Over here of course we had just witnessed the demise of the pirates and there was little Radio One airplay for an unreleased album like A Beacon from Mars. Epic’s lack of a British outlet, until fairly recently, not only denied us the first three Kaleidoscope albums but others like Poco’s Pickin’ Up the Pieces, Kak, the Groovies’ Supersnazz which all might have done well at the time.

All that is rather a long way of explaining why Kaleidoscope didn’t make it, perhaps too, their star signs clashed and it was fated, but we’re not likely to see a band like them again. Much of their uniqueness was due to the only two constant members, from their formation in September 1966 to their departure four years later, David Lindley and Solomon Feldthouse. Lindley was primarily responsible for getting the band together. He was a well-known musician in Southern California, where he was a member of a healthy scene revolving around McCabe’s guitar store (which has associations with Ry Cooder, Taj Mahal, and the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band as well). He also recorded banjo for a number of regional labels and worked with people like Randy Boone, Glenn Campbell and, inevitably, the New Christy Minstrels. Sol Feldthouse was born in Turkey [ed: make that Pingry, Idaho], accounting for a strong Turkish influence on the group’s music, but grew up in Florida (a spawning ground for at least one excellent group, Pearls Before Swine—listen to “Balaclava”) and eventually found his way to California. Lindley was principally lead guitarist, banjo and fiddle player, while Feldthouse played various exotic instruments like the oud and saz, as well as guitar. They both handled most of the vocals too. Feldthouse, in particular, has an unusual coarse, deep voice, which is very distinctive—the ultimate Feldthouse vocal can be heard on “Oh Death,” on Side Trips, a curdled vocal that is surely what the mysterious Mr. Allen in H.P. Lovecraft’s “Case of Charles Dexter Ward” would have sounded like. (Now there’s another band—information please?) The other musicians on the albums were no less versatile. It’s useful to group Side Trips and A Beacon from Mars together here, where Chris Darrow played bass, plus fiddle, mandolin, banjo and guitar, John Vidican was percussionist and Max Buda, who replaced Fenrus Epp [ed: Max Buda and Fenrus Epp were one and the same, namely, Chester Crill], played keyboards, fiddle and incredible harmonica.

Like many first albums, Side Trips suffers because all the tracks are too short, there’s nothing for them to really get into, and so it’s a bit of a mixed album. If ever a band deserves being called eclectic, then it’s the Kaleidoscope. There is jug band music, “Hesitation Blues,” Byrds-style music, “Pulsating Dream,” while “Keep Your Mind Open” has all the psychedelic trademarks. While the way they pull off these and other musical styles is remarkable, there is not always an identifiable sound of their own. I suspect this may be due to the circumstances of cutting the album, inexperience, and compromise. Despite this they are unquestionably the Kaleidoscope on tracks such as the haunting “Oh Death” with its tampoura-like [sic] fiddle, “Why Try,” released as their second single, “Into the Night” [“If the Night”] not very typical, but containing some lovely delicate piano from Fenrus Epp, and “Egyptian Garden.” This track is absolutely brilliant, almost a prototype for “Taxim” on Beacon, where some of its melodic figures are expanded, and has a great vocal and chorus line, plus that oud (or is it a saz?) sound driving it along. (The sleeve notes on the album are appalling, by Arnold Shaw, author of one of the worst books ever on rock, The Rock Revolution, where he describes the Kaleidoscope as playing rag ‘n’ roll. The notes actually list likes and dislikes of each member!) It was after Max Buda joined the band that they really tightened up [ed: see previous note on Chester Crill’s various personae], and by the time Beacon was released they were an unbelievable live band. They performed mainly in the L.A. and Frisco area, although Lillian Roxon attests to their success at the Newport Folk Festival. Their programme featured a lot of material from A Beacon from Mars, besides “Egyptian Garden,” “Louisiana Man, “Greenwood Sidee,” “Taxim” and much more blues/rock like “Killing Floor,” “You Don’t Love Me” and “Beacon from Mars” itself, a variation on “Smokestack Lightning.” High points would be “Taxim” and Feldthouse’s flamenco interlude, often accompanied by a belly dancer or a pair of flamenco dancers. Another peak would be David Lindley’s feedback excursion in one of the rock numbers, but, for some, this was the nadir; Pete Welding in Downbeat, usually enthusiastic over the band wrote: “One of the episodes in this barrage was a kind of rock version of the Big Noise from Winnetka ploy.” Lindley’s use of feedback on the albums is, however, always tasteful. Once again it is the shorter tracks on A Beacon from Mars that are insubstantial, and here again it is their eclecticism that prevents the album sustaining an overall mood. For me, anyway, their countryish/jug-band efforts never sound comfortable enough. But the album has more than its fair share of treats, the tragic ballad “Greenwood Sidee” is in the same vein as “Oh Death,” with its prevailing mood set by the droning fiddle and the percussive march tempo, it builds up perfectly, and Feldthouse’s vocal matches brilliantly. “You Don’t Love Me” must have been popular then, for it turns up on a number of 1968 albums (like the amazing phased version on Supersession). Kaleidoscope perform it with the classic two guitar sound plus a great duel harmonica sound from each channel, both played by Max Buda in his high, piercing style.

"A Beacon from Mars" is, I think, the best they have achieved on record. It’s a really exciting, blues-based number, but Feldthouse’s vocal is softer than usual, filtered through some sort of echo/fuzz chamber [ed: Feldthouse sang through an old wooden coned speaker he’d found at an antique store], and instrumentally there are a number of movements, of which David Lindley’s feedback passage is the highpoint. It is led in by a theme from Max Buda’s harmonica solo and the dynamics of this solo are perfect for the tension in the song, his control is remarkable, and in its context, it matches anything achieved on record by the Dead, Quicksilver, or Hendrix. It leads perfectly back into the theme which is followed by a movement of more restrained feedback and delicate harpsichord/piano from Buda. More than a little of the atmosphere can be attributed to the bass work and percussion throughout. In all it’s a great live (in the studio) performance which, if you haven’t, you should really try and listen to. “Taxim” is the other extended cut and mainly consists of improvisations between Feldthouse on the oud and saz [ed: saz only], and Lindley on the harp guitar, in the form of a number of variations in a Turkish mode. The frequent time changes are well executed considering the problems of blending eastern and western scales. It’s a really enjoyable track in a relatively unexplored area of music by rock musicians. (Except perhaps for the Third Ear Band plus various jazz artists.) Chris Darrow’s bass playing is superb on this too, and Max Buda adds violin to some of the variations.

All information about the band virtually ends here, they seem to have been shrouded in mystery, even after scrounging for information from the usually reliable sources. But, nearly a year and a half later, in June 1969, their third album Incredible Kaleidoscope was released. Chris Darrow, John Vidican and Max Buda were no longer with the band, being replaced by Paul Lagos on drums, Stuart Brotman on bass, and Templeton Parcely on violin and keyboards. [ed: once again, Parcely, Buda, and Crill are one and the same.] Buda is featured on a few of this albums tracks, but of the others, only Chris Darrow is traceable. [ed: Darrow doesn’t appear on this album.] He had a stint with the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, and worked both live and in the studio with Linda Rondstadt and Morning. [ed: the author may be confusing Darrow with Stu Brotman, who replaced Darrow on bass in Kaleidoscope, and would later work with Morning.] Artist Proof, on Fantasy, released in April 1972 was his first solo album, and I believe he has another in the can at the moment.

Any doubts about the new Kaleidoscope are dispelled immediately by the opening track “Lie to Me,” which rivals the great “Egyptian Garden” with that oud sound and a strong chorus line. They go on to rework “Let the Good Times Roll,” and “Killing Floor” as “Let the Good Love Flow” and “Tempe Arizona.” They also transform the traditional “The Cuckoo” into a heavy blues. Lagos and Brotman form a superb rhythm unit on this, and their playing is indeed exemplary throughout the whole album. “Seven-ate Sweet” is the album’s extended piece, once again in the Turkish style, but is more successful than “Taxim” because it retains one time signature throughout (7/8) providing a powerful basis for their instrumental excursions. Essentially in jazz time, there is accomplished interplay between Parcely’s lead violin and Lindley’s second violin and lead guitar, then, after a spirited Turkish sounding vocal Feldthouse joins in on the oud, a real eastern jam. But perhaps the most incredible track is “Banjo,” featuring David Lindley; it’s a beautifully recorded instrumental, and, unlike most banjo pieces, isn’t bluegrass based. It’s very hard to describe, and equally difficult to do justice to it on paper, but I would put it on a par with Stephen Stills’ “Bluedbird” (the Springfield version) and, remembering those days when MM or NME used to ask people to send in their ideal bands, how about Lindley working with McGuinn or Stills?

Although Incredible is perhaps their most successful album, unfortunately only their last one, Bernice, was released here, and there are even more changes on this. Connie Crill on keyboards replaced Templeton Parcely [ed: yes, it’s still Chester Crill], and Jeff Kaplan was brought in to handle most of the vocal chores. Bernice is, however, rather disappointing, especially in this case the extended track “New Blue Ooze.” It really lacks the invention of their other masterpieces, like “Seven-ate Sweet,” for after a long bass intro it settles down into a riff not unlike “On the Road Again.” Lindley’s guitar solo just doesn’t take off and the track is only rescued by Max Buda’s harmonica solo, before degenerating into a rather tedious drum solo. There is a lot more emphasis on vocal humor, which is pretty successful, but deals with rather unoriginal and only too familiar material that only artists like Country Joe can really bring off. Although none of the tracks spark of the Kaleidoscope at their best, there are some really good moments here and there, like Lindley’s “Another Lover,” with one of the few Feldthouse vocals; “To Know Is Not to Be,” and “Lulu Arfin Annie,” a reworking of an old single of theirs, recaptures some of the old magic. The title track works too, and Bernice is a lady in much the same category as “Motorcycle Irene” (Moby Grape) or Jim Morrison’s “Twentieth Century Fox.” It is an album where you can sense a lack of direction with both Lindley and, especially, Feldthouse, taking a back seat role. The group did indeed break up not long after its release. Apart from these four albums, there are various odd singles and B sides, plus two very nice tracks on the Zabriskie Point soundtrack, and aout half an album on Vault. It’s highly unlikely that any of this single and archive material will ever see the light of day again, especially when similar stuff by the Byrds or Springfield remains unavailable, but pressure ought to be brought to bear somewhere to have the first three albums released over here.

Since splitting, the ex-members have gone in various directions. Paul Lagos played with John Mayall for a time, Stuart Brotman did session work, for example with Al Kooper, and Morning (on their excellent Struck Like Silver), and Parcely, Kaplan and Crill can be heard on Bruce Palmer’s solo album, which, despite association with two great bands, is sadly not very good. The remarkable Sol Feldthouse seems to have vanished from music altogether, but David Lindley is at least still doing fine things. He is currently working with fellow Orange County artist Jackson Browne, and apparently does a stunning solo set, so let’s hope he’s on the next album. Before that he toured with Terry Reid (over here too) and can be heard on Reid’s new album River, of which I haven’t a copy yet, but I believe he plays guitar and fiddle. There are in fact many questions to be answered about the Kaleidoscope; if anyone knows anything about them, or indeed the “true unprintable story” of why A Beacon from Mars was “recorded under deress,” then perhaps they could get in touch and it might be included in a future issue. Equally, for anyone who digs the Kaleidoscope already, you probably know much of what has been said, but they were such an amazing band weren’t they?

Mick Houghton