Horse Of A Different Feather: Diana Marcovitz’s Wild Ride Through 1974
Alright, buckle up—this one’s a doozy. Horse Of A Different Feather by Diana Marcovitz isn’t your typical album. Released in ’74 under Columbia Records, it’s like someone threw Pop, Funk/Soul, Rock, Folk, Comedy, and even Spoken Word into a blender and hit “puree.” And somehow? It works. Sort of. This is the kind of record that makes you scratch your head while tapping your foot, which I guess is its charm.
The genres are all over the map—seriously, there’s Disco, Art Rock, Country, and even something labeled as “Non-Music” (whatever that means). But hey, if you’re into weirdness wrapped in melody, this might just be your jam. Let me tell ya about two tracks that stuck with me like gum on a shoe.
First off, "Groupie's Lament." Oh man, this song is wild. Imagine a mix of rock & roll swagger and tongue-in-cheek storytelling. The lyrics feel like they were scribbled on a napkin during an after-hours party at CBGBs. It’s got attitude for days, but instead of taking itself too seriously, it pokes fun at the whole groupie culture thing. I mean, who doesn’t love a good laugh at the absurdity of life? Every time I hear it, I can picture some glitter-clad rocker wobbling around backstage, muttering lines like, “I gave him my heart, he gave me his hotel key.” Classic stuff.
Then there’s "So Pissed Off," which is exactly what it sounds like—a cathartic explosion of frustration set to music. If you’ve ever had one of those days where everything goes sideways, this track will resonate big time. The energy here is raw and unfiltered, almost punk-like before punk was even a thing. You can practically feel Marcovitz throwing her hands up in exasperation as she belts out the chorus. It’s messy, chaotic, and oddly satisfying. Like screaming into a pillow but way more musical.
Other standouts include "Hymn To Canada," because why not sing patriotic ballads to our neighbors up north? And "Three Toed Sloth," which... well, let’s just say no one else could pull off writing a quirky ode to slow-moving mammals quite like Marcovitz does.
What really sets this album apart is how unpredictable it feels. One moment you’re grooving to funky basslines, and the next you’re listening to spoken word poetry or country twang. Sure, it’s disjointed, but maybe that’s the point. Life ain’t always smooth sailing either, right?
Here’s the kicker though: despite its quirks, Horse Of A Different Feather has stayed lodged in my brain like an earworm wearing cowboy boots. Maybe it’s because Diana Marcovitz refused to play by the rules—or maybe she didn’t know the rules existed in the first place. Either way, this album reminds us that art doesn’t have to fit neatly into boxes to leave an impression.
Oh, and here’s a random thought: If aliens landed tomorrow and asked me to explain human creativity using only one record, I’d hand them this one. Not sure if they’d beam me aboard their spaceship or run screaming back to space, but hey, at least I tried.
