Goin’ Away by State of Mind: A Garage Rock Gem That’ll Knock Your Socks Off (and Maybe Your Neighbors’ Too)
Let’s get one thing straight—1967 wasn’t just about flower power and psychedelic trips. While everyone was busy grooving to Sgt. Pepper, a little band called State of Mind snuck out an album that hits harder than your uncle’s bad jokes at Thanksgiving. Their debut LP, Goin’ Away, is raw, gritty garage rock with enough attitude to make you wanna kick over a trash can or two. Released under the Chavis label and produced by James Chavis himself, this sucker’s got soul—and maybe a few splinters from where they built it in someone’s basement.
The first track I gotta shout out is “Make You Cry.” Man, this song grabs you by the collar and doesn’t let go until you’re gasping for air like you’ve been running from a bee swarm. It’s got that punchy guitar riff that feels like it could peel paint off walls, and the vocals? They’re not perfect—but who needs perfection when you’ve got passion dripping all over the place? This tune reminds me why garage rock exists: to remind us that music doesn’t have to be shiny to be unforgettable. If “Make You Cry” doesn’t make you wanna stomp around your living room shouting nonsense lyrics, check your pulse—you might be dead.
Then there’s the title track, “Goin’ Away.” Now, if you’re expecting some sappy ballad about leaving town, think again. This isn’t no tearjerker—it’s more like a middle finger to whatever’s holding you back. The rhythm has this relentless drive, like a runaway train fueled by cheap beer and rebellion. And those lyrics? Written by James Booth, they pack a wallop without trying too hard. There’s something oddly comforting about hearing someone yell about hitting the road while sounding like their mic stand might collapse any second. It’s messy, sure, but ain’t life kinda messy too?
You know what makes this record special? It’s unapologetically itself. No fancy studio tricks, no autotune nonsense—just four guys bashing away on their instruments like the world’s ending tomorrow. Sure, it sounds a bit rough around the edges, but that’s what makes it real. Plus, listening to Goin’ Away feels like stepping into a time machine that smells faintly of leather jackets and cigarette smoke.
So here’s the kicker: thirty years after its release, I bet even aliens would dig this album if they crash-landed in rural America and found a copy stuck in a jukebox. Who knows? Maybe UFOs are already jamming to “Make You Cry” somewhere in deep space. Either way, Goin’ Away proves that sometimes the scrappiest records leave the biggest marks. Turn it up loud—you won’t regret it.
