Album Review: A Woman by Timmothy (1972)
Alright, let’s talk about A Woman, the kinda underrated gem from Timmothy, released back in '72. This album's got that perfect mix of Folk Rock warmth and Psychedelic Rock weirdness, like someone blended Simon & Garfunkel with a dash of Jefferson Airplane and just let it simmer. It came out on Pear Records, which honestly doesn’t ring a bell for me, but hey, they must’ve been doing something right to put this out into the world.
Now, I gotta say, the record kicks off with “Maybe I’m High,” and man, does it grab you. The opening riff is one of those things you don’t expect to stick, but somehow it worms its way into your brain. Like, you’ll find yourself humming it while making coffee or whatever. The lyrics? A bit all over the place—kinda stream-of-consciousness—but isn’t that what psychedelia’s all about? There’s this moment halfway through where the drums drop out, and it’s just acoustic guitar and Timothy’s voice cracking slightly, and it feels so raw, so unpolished. Feels real, y’know? Like he didn’t overthink it too much, and that’s what makes it hit different.
Then there’s the title track, “A Woman.” This one’s slower, more introspective. You can tell Timmothy was really trying to dig deep here. The melody builds up gradually, layer by layer, until it’s this lush tapestry of sound. And his vocals—they’re not perfect, but that’s what makes it work. He sounds like he means every word, even if you’re not totally sure what he’s saying. Around the three-minute mark, there’s this flute solo that comes outta nowhere, and instead of being cheesy, it actually works. It’s haunting, like something you’d hear in a dream. Or maybe a fever dream. Either way, it stays with you.
Listening to A Woman feels like stepping back in time, but not in a nostalgic way. It’s more like eavesdropping on someone’s private thoughts, their struggles, their highs and lows. The production has that lo-fi charm that screams early '70s, but it’s not distracting—it adds character. Honestly, it’s wild to think this album came out the same year as Exile on Main St. and Harvest. Those records get all the love, but A Woman deserves a spot in the conversation.
So yeah, I guess what I’m saying is, give this one a spin if you’re into music that feels lived-in, music that tells stories without hitting you over the head with them. Oh, and fun fact—I once read somewhere that Timmothy recorded most of this album in some cabin upstate. If that’s true, it explains a lot. Nature vibes for days.
Anyway, who would’ve thought an album called A Woman could make me think so much about men and flutes? Life’s funny like that.
