New Riders of the Purple Sage, Brujo (1974)

When I was a teenager, punk songs about how the only good Deadhead is one that is dead were my idea of clever songwriting. Then I grew up, got more boring and/or less dogmatic, and reluctantly conceded that at least American Beauty and Workingman’s Dead are better than 85% of all punk albums.

Even still, the idea of volitionally listening to a Dead spinoff seemed beyond the pale, but here I am, rocking some New Riders solely on account of Skip Battin’s presence in the band (begun with this album, their sixth). Battin was arguably the third least essential Byrd, after passing bassist John York and mediocre drummer Michael Clarke, but completist tendencies are ugly things.

It’s not bad, the album. The first side, in particular, rides a mellow stoned country groove through a spirited rendition of Bob Dylan’s “You Angel You” (from which Roger McGuinn in 1974 could have taken a cue or two, given his lifeless covers of the era) and the great standard “Ashes of Love,” along with singer John Dawson’s “Instant Armadillo Blues,” whose tale of “going down to Austin” to watch the armadillos could have come straight off the pages of a Tom Robbins novel. Then Battin and songwriting partner Kim Fowley take over side 2 and grind things to a halt with more of the simplistic novelty songs that they had already dumped on several late-period Byrds albums. Considering that the New Riders were cranking out multiple albums per year at this point, I suppose the stakes were low and consequences small. But still, Battin doesn't add much to the group except song-quantity--which probably counted for something given their prolific output.