todd dillingham spinning in a whirl
I don’t know what strange astral interaction led me to have two records by this gentleman. Psychedelic pop with roots firmly planted between the late 60s and the very early 70s. Each song is like a dart that sticks to a photograph. Canterbury pop with a fish in hand dressed in Beatles uniforms. Barrett is present, but dressed in Victorian sequins, and the good Robyn is slyly always there, along with digressions into psycho proto-prog. In short, a work from a craftsman now of retirement age who has magically pulled out of his hat his mastery in dancing on colorful staves like a young lad. If you get the chance, don’t let it pass you by.