The members of the Love Depression were 17 and 18 years old when theyrecorded this album in their native Venezuela in 1968. They were loversof rock music, and like many teenagers they started a band to paytribute to their idols. Unlike a lot of garage bands that have beenuncovered by a number of compilations, The Love Depression does not domuch to aspire to "lost classic" status. With only one original songthat bows at the temple of Cream and Hendrix, and eleven covers ofvarious hits of the 1960's, The Love Depressionis a strong contender for the least essential release of the year.Their repitoire revolves around the hits of their era (and much ofclassic rock radio today). From "Crossroads," attributed to RobertJohnson in the credits yet clearly more informed by Eric Clapton, to"Stone Free," it's a pretty mundane ride through the jukebox. There aresome surprises, like the appearance of Otis Redding's "Sweet SoulMusic," and some inexplicable choices like Cream's "Toad" complete withextra-long drum solo. It's not exactly up to Ginger Baker standards.Take that however you wish. When singer Jesus "Torito" Toro throwhimself into Procol Harum's "Whiter Shade of Pale," it's difficult tosort through the mixed emotions that the song provokes. On the onehand, there is the disappointment of having to endure the tunelessrendition. On the other hand, I found myself becoming angry. The onlymotivation for releasing this that I can conceive of is so these trackscan be relegated to ironic mix tapes or goofy soundtracks so everyonecan laugh when he pushes through the lyric about "sissteen vestalbirrrrgins" through his thick, Venezuelan accent. Musically, theycapture the song decently, but it's hardly anything special. I don'tknow if it's the sense of earnestness in which they perform "WhiterShade of Pale," or the memory of the original song in my mind, but bythe song really did affect me. Not in a transcendent, revelatory waythat so-called lost classics should, but in a rather gloomy way,skeptical about the potentially sneering motivations and intentionsbehind the release. Their cringe inducing cover of Percy Sledge's "Whena Man Loves a Woman" manages to produce an effect I like to call"sympathetic embarrassment," the feeling you get when you areembarrassed for the performer, but god bless them for getting up thereand trying it. These performances are usually followed by loud, yetuneasy applause. The Love Depression sounds like a moderately talentedcover band whose singer does his best to work around those foreignpronunciations and his unfortunate tendency to bleat and slur thewords. There's something to be said for culling the archives forridiculous, obscure records that serve no other purpose than to amusemodern tastes. Usually they involve singing Christian puppets oroverblown, pretentious "what were they thinking" acts. The LoveDepression seems like a bunch of guys who just wanted to have funplaying their favorite songs, and though they don't exactly stand thetest of time, I don't think they deserve excess ridicule. If youdisagree, I have an old cassette of my high school band doing a musicalversion of T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" thatsegues into "Born Under a Band Sign" I'd be willing to sell you. Ihonestly hope no one uncovers that in thirty years. Read More
