Wizzard - Buffalo Station/Get on Down to Memphis

The Pop Archaeologist has a special place in his heart for Roy Wood; few other artists have offered such an unstable yet sublime mixture of eclectic pop songsmithery and sonic terrorism.

Wood started the group Wizzard in 1972, after splitting with Jeff Lynne and the nascent Electric Light Orchestra part way through the recording of their second album. Roy's other (and original) group, The Move had gone from pop to prog and then on to a more traditionally Rock and Roll sound, and when it ended at the same time (Lynne had been a member since 1970), the final single 'California Man' turned out to be a pointer as to the sound of Wood's new group.

Wizzard were a sprawling group, and although they didn't take themselves seriously during television appearances, turned out a string of lushly produced singles in 1973 harking back to rock and the sound of Phil Spector. Also released in that year, in March, was their debut LP, 'Wizzard Brew'. Ostensibly in a similar vein to their singles, the sound of the album was something else, the type of sonic assault that hadn't been heard since The Velvet Underground's 'White Light/White Heat' - although the Velvs were a (then) obscure Art band, and Wizzard were Top Ten TOTP fodder. Wizzard also had twice the members, therefore twice the attack.

It's all a bit reminiscent of The Move's 'Looking On' LP from 1970, a highly 'progressive' record, and quite a challenging one - but 'Brew' has a sense of fun absent from its predecesssor, despite the bloody minded production values.

Buffalo Station/Get on Down to Memphis opened side two of the original record, and is as full of Americana as its title suggests, with Wood's distorted, ring modulated vocals barked over honking sax and sawing strings, like Doctor Who's Daleks had discovered pop music. Eveything barely holds together, and then it finally staggers and collapses into the 'Memphis' half. This adds elements of 1920s jazz to the mix, and then briefly turns into a facsimile of Sun Records-era Elvis before screaming back into distortion and a clarinet driven finale.

It's quite something else, and lord knows what pop pickers must have made of it at the time, although it charted at a respectable No. 27, impressive for such a sonically dense record.