Ping Pong by Jo Sherman: A Wild Ride Through Synth Chaos (1973)
Alright, let’s get into this freaky little gem that nobody talks about anymore—Ping Pong by Jo Sherman. Released in ’73 under GNP Crescendo, it’s one of those albums that sounds like someone threw a synth, a drum machine, and a broken toaster into a blender. It’s chaotic, experimental as hell, and honestly? I kinda love it. This thing is dripping with weirdness, and if you’re into Synth-pop or just wanna hear something that screams “we didn’t know what we were doing but damnit, we tried,” then buckle up.
First off, the title track Ping Pong. Man, this song hits you like a caffeine rush at 3 AM. The bouncy synth line feels like your brain is playing table tennis against itself. You know those tracks that stick in your head for days even though they make zero sense? Yeah, this is one of them. It’s got this relentless energy to it, like it doesn’t care if you’re ready for it or not—it just barrels forward, daring you to keep up. The rhythm skips around so much it almost feels unstable, like it could collapse any second. But somehow, it holds together, and that tension makes it unforgettable.
Then there’s another cut on here—I won’t name names because half these tracks blur together—but there’s this one piece where the synths start glitching out like an old arcade game having a meltdown. It’s abrasive, sure, but in the best way possible. Like, imagine dropping acid in a neon-lit bowling alley while robots DJ your existential crisis. That’s the vibe. If you’ve ever wanted music that sounds like technology rebelling against humanity, congrats, you found it.
Now, let me tell ya—this album ain’t perfect. Some parts drag, others are straight-up disorienting, and yeah, maybe a couple songs feel like filler. But who cares? It’s raw, unfiltered creativity from an era when electronic music was still figuring itself out. Hell, most people probably thought this stuff was alien garbage back then. And maybe it is alien garbage—but it’s the good kind. The kind that makes you go, “What the actual f?” and hit repeat anyway.
Reflecting on Ping Pong, I gotta say—it’s less of an album and more of a time capsule. Listening to it now feels like eavesdropping on a mad scientist messing around in his basement studio. Did Jo Sherman know he was making history? Probably not. But decades later, this thing still slaps in its own bizarre, off-kilter way. So next time you’re bored of the same old Spotify playlists, throw this sucker on. Just don’t blame me if your cat starts hiding under the couch afterward.
Final verdict: 8/10. Not for everyone, but holy crap, it’s for someone.
