Nuggets Volume Five: Pop Part III – A Psychedelic Trip Down Memory Lane
Alright, let’s talk about Nuggets Volume Five: Pop Part III. Released in 1985 by Rhino Records, this gem is like flipping through an old photo album of forgotten sounds. It’s a wild mix of Pop, Rock, Psychedelic Rock, Folk Rock—you name it. And while the credits are stacked with folks like Art D. Rekshun for art direction and Ken Perry on mastering duties, what really stands out here is the music itself. This isn’t just some dusty relic; it’s alive, man.
Now, I gotta say, two tracks stuck with me like gum under my shoe: “Sit Down I Think I Love You” and “Mind Excursion.” First up, “Sit Down I Think I Love You”—this one hits different. The vocals feel raw but polished at the same time (yeah, that’s possible), and there’s this jangly guitar riff that makes you wanna grab someone’s hand and spin ‘em around the room. It’s not perfect—it doesn’t need to be—but damn if it doesn’t make your heart skip a beat. Like, who wouldn’t want to hear this blaring from a record player during golden hour?
Then there’s “Mind Excursion,” which feels like stepping into a kaleidoscope. The vibe? Totally psychedelic, dripping with trippy vibes and dreamy harmonies. Listening to it feels like floating downstream on a lazy river, except every now and then, BAM—a splash of something unexpected pulls you back to reality. There’s a certain magic in how loose yet intentional it all feels. You can tell these musicians were having fun experimenting without overthinking things too much. Honestly, it’s kinda refreshing compared to today’s hyper-produced tunes.
The whole compilation has its quirks, though. Some songs feel dated, sure, but that’s part of the charm. Tracks like “Bend Me, Shape Me” bring that classic pop-rock energy we don’t hear enough anymore, while “Pandora’s Golden Heebie Geebies” leans more folk-rock, almost like a campfire singalong gone slightly off the rails. It’s messy, it’s nostalgic, and honestly? That’s why it works.
What blows my mind is how Harold Bronson managed to curate such a diverse collection. These aren’t chart-toppers or household names—they’re hidden treasures plucked straight outta obscurity. And yeah, maybe some tracks fall flat, but when they hit, they hit.
So here’s the thing: listening to Nuggets Volume Five feels less like reviewing an album and more like hanging out with an eccentric uncle who insists on showing you his vinyl collection. Sure, he might ramble a bit, but eventually, he’ll drop a story so good you’ll forget everything else. That’s this album in a nutshell—flawed, unpredictable, and utterly unforgettable.
Oh, and P.S., whoever decided to slap Don Brown’s artwork on the cover deserves a medal. That cover alone could hypnotize you into buying the record. But hey, maybe that’s just me.
