(Translated from my original Italian text by ChatGPT and Piero Scaruffi)
Pioneers of Texas psychedelic rock in the 1990s, ST 37 were formed in 1987 in Austin by Joel Crutcher (guitar), his brother Carlton (vocals and keyboards), and Scott Telles (bass). They debuted with the cassette Billygoat Nothinghead, the first in a long series.
They gained attention for the cosmic-symphonic suites of the album Invisible College (Over And Out, 1992), followed by the hypnotic single Taboo Down Under (Noiseville, 1993).
The double album Glare (Helter Skelter, 1995) celebrates the tradition of cosmic-psychedelic couriers stretching from Hawkwind to Chrome, while also hinting at Neu! and Faust behind the psychedelic scenes. The long Fishbowl Dream is one of their absolute high points.
Spaceage (Black Widow, 1998) and Secret Society (Lost, 1998), which collects unreleased tracks from the past three years, are somewhat disappointing, despite frequent nods to Hawkwind, Amon Dl, and Red Krayola.
Diluted across too many cassettes and albums, ST 37s work never managed to match their models.
(Original English text by Piero Scaruffi)
I Love To Talk (Emperor Jones, 1999) was recorded by a five-member
line-up that includes founding members Joel Crutcher (guitar), his brother
Carlton (vocals and keyboards) and Scott Telles (bass) as well as
the second guitar of Mark Stone and the drums of veteran Dave Cameron.
Fans familiar with their past glories will shoot immediately for the
longer tracks, thereby skipping the epic pace and flamenco chords of
Acetone, the Chrome-style heavy-metal Whistling In Hell,
one percussive experiment (William Burroughs Memorial Drum Loops) and
one guitar experiment (Plate Tectonics).
But these are the best tracks on the new album.
The unending jam of Palpable simply repeats the same "Pink Floydish"
pattern over and over again, the whirling melody of Discorporate mocks
the Flaming Lips, and Heaven Tease is soothing space country music.
To make things worse, the vocals weaken all sung tracks.
Down On Us (Emperor Jones, 2002) offer more old-faschioned
freak-rock for the eternally nostalgic.
Other than the majestic prog-rock melody of A Huge Rare Cheese,
there is little to commend here.
The 14-minute Valentine Alibi displays all the worst, self-indulgent
excesses of bad prog-rock.
