A spectacularly inventive album, ringing with originality, validating its pedigree of Abbey Road recording, Norman Smith production, and (arguably) Tommy-inspiring impact. That it was the fourth-most famous album released that week in 1968* is understandable, but its general obscurity is baffling.
An early concept album, once again inspiring comparisons to Nirvana, it tells the tale of a sadly sensitive, beautifully fantastic tale of a man out of place, though one finding wholly less happiness than Simon Simopath. Production tricks abound, weaving songs from clockwork gossamer, swerving in melody and time just at the edge of flow, teetering tunefully on two wheels. Anything that makes me say "this is good" out loud is probably flirting with a gold tag, only a lagging last third keeps this from being a full on five.
An overlooked masterpiece, check it out if you have a reasonable threshold for pretentiousness and any kind of hunger for classic, late 60's wild-eyed exploration of pop's boundaries 4.5/5
* The White Album, Beggars Banquet, and The Kinks are the Village Green Preservation Society. Jesus!
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