Alexander "Skip" Spence
Oar

The voice of “Skip” reminds me of Jimi Hendrix. He did not consider himself a great singer, in fact, he hated his own voice. As for Spence, I’m not sure how much he cared about having a great voice. It turns out that with his vocal cords, with those very emphasized falsettos, on a baritonal support, he knew how to move, he knew how to bring out the most profound, yet simple, things the soul needed to liberate.

Born as a drummer, divided between the United States and Canada, his first group recording took place in 1966: it was the debut album of Jefferson Airplane, which should have, literally, made them “take off” (“take off”). He was fired by his companions for a trip to Mexico that he had not announced. What a funny, and somewhat tragic, way to leave a communal situation?!
At this point, Spence considers joining Buffalo Springfield with Neil Young and Stephen Stills, but instead forms Moby Grape, a band that would create, starting from a psychedelic base, a unique amalgam of blues, folk/country, and jazz for the period but little celebrated.
In this context, he shifts from drums to rhythm guitar, but the first incarnation of the band – Skip Spence (vocals and rhythm guitar), Peter Lewis (vocals and rhythm guitar), Jerry Miller (vocals and lead guitar), Bob Mosley (vocals and bass), Don Stevenson (vocals, drums) – has a short life (1966–1968) because, during the recordings for the second album, “Wow”, Spence, amid a lysergic delirium, believing himself to be the Antichrist, tries to break down the hotel room door of Miller with an axe (Jack Nicholson/Torrence, step aside!) with the aim of doing away with Stevenson to save him from himself (according to Lewis’s statements). Skip is first incarcerated, then committed to a psychiatric hospital, where he is filled with Thorazine, following a diagnosis of schizophrenia.
After six months he is released, and, with several songs stewing in his mind, he heads to Columbia Studios in Nashville, on the advice of producer David Rubinson, to record the only piece of his solo “career”, one of the brightest gems of American folk, injected with psychedelia, “Oar”.

The album, recorded in December ’68 and released in ’69, consists of twelve tracks, linked, in varying degrees, by a formally aseptic atmosphere, apparently devoid of verve, but in which truly lies the greatness and depth of Spence's way of composing.
Like some sort of Syd Barrett from across the ocean, his contemporary, therefore without any mutual influence, Skip lays it all bare, in a naive manner, singing about himself, sometimes even allegorically, flirting with (or penetrating) nonsense.
Recorded starting from May ’68 and published in January of the new decade, Barrett’s first solo work, “The Madcap Laughs” turns out to be the British twin of “Oar”, and shares with its predecessor (just!) a bored but significant attitude, a subdued rhythm and breath, which sometimes undergo surges, according to a schizophrenic vein that suits the complex and co-implicating personalities of artists.

Circus atmosphere, with children as protagonists, in “Little Hands”; a sinister Cohen-like evocation, “Cripple Creek”, about a cripple who leaves his body, and, once reached by an angel, realizes he’s alone, that his beloved is not waiting for him in heaven; “Weighted Down (The Prison Song)”, perhaps Spence's best piece, proto-slowcore, about being a soldier and bearing a burden, a recurring theme in the album, and about being betrayed; “War in Peace”, another track dealing with the theme of death; the long “Grey/Afro”, supported by an absurd rhythm, by a bass and drums that guide Skip's singing perfectly, closing the circle on an album that has no equals in music history.

What makes “Oar” an absolute masterpiece?

1. Spence plays all instruments;
2. He manages to unite – in an organic freak blend – psychedelia, folk, country, funk, rock, and above all blues;
3. It is the work of a lifetime, which condenses the deep inner turmoil of an artist, in an absolutely genuine manner.

Unreachable, despite Barrett’s namesake, released shortly after “The Madcap Laughs”, coming close, “Oar” is the work of a genius who, probably, didn’t know he was one, and of a musician who had little in common with many of his contemporaries, regarding versatility and instrumental flair. The Brian Jones of Moby Grape, a cult artist, celebrated by his heirs (including Robert Plant, Mark Lanegan, Mudhoney, Robyn Hitchcock, Tom Waits and Beck) with the album “More Oar” (dated 1999, year of his death), Alexander Spence should be remembered for his involuntary and, therefore, indispensable contribution to freak song-writing of lysergic memory, which would develop in the ’80s with artists like the aforementioned Robyn Hitchcock.

Rating: 10/10