Sold Date:
January 23, 2015
Start Date:
January 8, 2015
Final Price:
£29.99
(GBP)
Seller Feedback:
28300
Buyer Feedback:
29
WICKED LADY - PSYCHOTIC OVERKILL - HARD PSYCH - DOUBLE LP - NEW
LP NEW / MINT & UNPLAYED
A1 I'm a Freak 5:01A2 Tell the Truth 5:09B1 Passion 9:29B2 Voodoo Chile 4:42C1 Why Don't You Let Me Try 5:00C2 Sin City 7:05D1 Ship of Ghosts 22:00
Determined to live out their degenerate R&R fantasies, Weaver and Jeffries sacked Smith for slightly-less inept sticksman, Del “German Head” Morley, and unleashed “Psychotic Overkill” to a largely indifferent public in 1972. Once again, the production didn’t exactly CRUSH the way it shoulda/coulda, but it does scrunch a bit, which is a decent enough upgrade for a private press recording. However, disregard my bitchin’ as what really– and always — matters the most is the quality of the riffage, and Herr Weaver could wail and flail with the best of ‘em. Combine the amphetamine abandon of Alvin Lee with the burly, fuzzy muck of Leigh Stevens, and you’ve got a pretty accurate picture of his style. His vocals aren’t particularly distinctive– mainly an everyweirdo yowl, but since they’re written mostly as a device to fill space till the next six-string onslaught, it matters not a smidgen.
Opening cut “I’m a Freak,” with its full-throttle wantonness anticipates the scuzzy thrash Motörhead would hone to perfection a few years later– a total fuckin’ corker! “Why Don’t You Let Me Try” resembles another future stalwart of the NWOBHM-era: Angel Witch. Filled with cheeky humor, and a catchy as hell, heavily metallic, yet melodramatic main riff, it would fit just fine on the aforementioned legends’ classic debut LP. An awkward adaptation of Jimi’s “Voodoo Chile,” complete with one of those infernal “talk boxes” Peter Frampton milked as a gimmick to stardom reduces it to a parody of the original’s mystic grandeur– well-intentioned, but farcical. Such missteps are quickly forgiven by the time you’ve reached “Ship of Ghosts”– twenty-one minutes of some of the most over-the-top, wah’d into oblivion dirge rock ever committed to tape. What’s most incredible is that not for a moment will you feel the urge to stifle a yawn– you are pummeled with feral intensity for every second of its epic duration.
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