Holy fuck! Lo-fi psych anti folk done way before such words even existed. Skip Spence might not have done much good to himself ... or anyone else, with his time in Moby Grape, but obviously a stint in the mental institution did something, 'cause once out he headed to Nashville and recorded this master work, written, played and produced by himself. There are so many moments on this lp that are 30 years ahead of it's time, good luck keeping track of 'em all!
