The debut international long-player by the Bee Gees may shock anyone who only remembers them for their mid- to late-'70s disco mega-hits, or their quirky early-'70s romantic balladry. Up until 1966, they'd shown a penchant for melodic songs and rich, high harmonies, in the process becoming Australia's answer to the Everly Brothers. When the Bee Gees arrived in London late in 1966, however, they proved quick studies in absorbing and assimilating the progressive pop and rock sounds around them. In one fell swoop, they became competitors with the likes of veteran rock bands such as the Hollies and the Tremeloes, and this long-player, Bee Gees' 1st, is more of a rock album than the group usually got credit for generating. Parts of it do sound very much like the Beatles circa Revolver…

By 1967, bossa nova had become quite popular within jazz and traditional pop audiences, yet Frank Sinatra hadn't attempted any Brazil-influenced material. Sinatra decided to record a full-fledged bossa nova album with the genre's leading composer, Antonio Carlos Jobim. Arranged by Claus Ogerman and featuring Jobim on guitar and backing vocals, Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim concentrated on Jobim's originals, adding three American classics - "Baubles, Bangles and Beads," "Change Partners," and "I Concentrate on You" - that were rearranged to suit bossa nova conventions. The result was a subdued, quiet album that used the Latin rhythms as a foundation, not as a focal point. Supported by a relaxed, sympathetic arrangement of muted brass, simmering percussion, soft strings, and Jobim's lilting guitar, Sinatra turns in an especially noteworthy performance…

Willie Bobo's music is triangulated between Latin jazz (Mongo Santamaria's division; the percussionist first gained notice in Santamaria's band), what by the mid-'60s had come to be called soul-jazz, and good old-fashioned lounge-act kitsch. None of the three influences overwhelms the others on 1967's Juicy, although from the lubricious title and cover photo on down, there's a certain "swingin' at Hef's pad" vibe to the proceedings that makes this album of particular interest to latter-day hipsters. Most of the song selection consists of soul-jazz covers of popular hits of the day, from a funky take on Eddie Floyd's "Knock on Wood" to a bossa nova-fied version of Bob Crewe's "Music to Watch Girls By," but the real standouts are the small handful of band originals, particularly the fiery groove of the title track, on which Bobo's timbales get their hardest workout…

Kind of a minor league version of the Doors, Clear Light were a West Coast phenomenon, and although they didn't last too long, were an interesting group. A very good slice of Los Angeles psychedelia, Clear Light were a six-piece band that combined folk, rock, psychedelia, and even a touch of classical to their sound. The end result, though, is a little ponderous and pretentious, but strangely listenable. The big hit off this album (produced by Paul Rothchild and engineered by Bruce Botnick) was "Mr. Blue," a psychedelic folk song written by Tom Paxton. It's over six-minutes long and a bit overbaked, but it does have an odd appeal. The finer moments are guitarist Bob Seal's psychedelic folk-rock songs, namely "With All in Mind" and "They Who Have Nothing."

This brief segment of the Memphis Slim story unearths a parcel of tasty tracks recorded during 1967 in Paris where Slim would live out the rest of his life. Here he delivers his usual mix of slow drags, soulful struts, shuffles, and boogies, working the piano and singing the blues. Solid support is provided by guitarist Mickey Baker, bassists Guy Pedersen and Roland Lobligeois, and drummer Andre Arpino. The rest of the personnel remain largely unidentified; the nameless organist and a tidy anonymous horn section put a lot of meat on the ribs of this album. On "People People" and "Christina" the organ establishes a vibe comparable with certain wistful portions of John Mayall's largely introspective Bare Wires album, a distant cousin to this session recorded in April of the following year…

Due to the contractual dispute between Pye Records and Epic Records, Donovan's releases were held back in the United Kingdom throughout 1966 and early 1967. During this time, Donovan released Sunshine Superman and Mellow Yellow outside the UK. To catch up to the Epic Records schedule, Pye Records compiled a cross-section of both albums and titled it Sunshine Superman.
Upon his emergence during the mid-'60s, Donovan was anointed "Britain's answer to Bob Dylan," a facile but largely unfounded comparison which compromised the Scottish folk-pop troubadour's own unique vision. Where the thrust of Dylan's music remains its bleak introspection and bitter realism, Donovan fully embraced the wide-eyed optimism of the flower power movement…

With a fun, bright, and wonderful run of hits like "Do You Believe in Magic," "Daydream," and "Summer in the City" behind them, the Lovin' Spoonful began running out of gas by the spring of 1967, and the two albums paired here, You're a Big Boy Now and Everything Playing, both released later that year, show a band that was creatively exhausted. You're a Big Boy Now, the soundtrack to a film written and directed by Francis Ford Coppola, did generate a couple of good songs, the title tune and the lovely "Darling Be Home Soon," while Everything Playing yielded the joyous "She Is Still a Mystery" and "Six O'Clock," but these were really the last great gasp of a truly great American band. Serious fans of the group will want to have these for the sake of completion, and this two-fer is a good way to get both of them at once, but taken together, it's a swan song.

Though born in New Jersey, smooth soul diva Madeline Bell enjoyed her greatest success in the United Kingdom (where she began living in 1963), and her first album, 1967's Bell's a Poppin', is a thoroughly enjoyable example of British pop record-making at its most poised and professional. Bell had a world-class voice and sang supper-club soul in the manner of Dionne Warwick and Dusty Springfield (the latter of whom was a friend of Bell's and often used her as a backing vocalist); those looking for Southern soul grit will be disappointed, but Bell's a Poppin' is a marvelous example of the British equivalent of Brill Building pop. The arrangements are clever and sophisticated, the musicians are spot-on throughout, producer John Franz adds just the right amount of polish without rubbing away the personality of the music, and Bell's vocals tell a story just beautifully, boasting smarts and understated passion while maintaining a firm sense of control and balance throughout.

A previously unissued album recorded in 1967 at Gold Star studios, Houston, Texas. This session teams up Johnny Winter with local Dallas bluesman Calvin "Loudmouth" Johnson on 13 loose blues jams. This record presents a real blues band playing exactly the way they played - raw and to the bone.

With Revolver, the Beatles made the Great Leap Forward, reaching a previously unheard-of level of sophistication and fearless experimentation. Sgt. Pepper, in many ways, refines that breakthrough, as the Beatles consciously synthesized such disparate influences as psychedelia, art song, classical music, rock & roll, and music hall, often in the course of one song. Not once does the diversity seem forced – the genius of the record is how the vaudevillian "When I'm 64" seems like a logical extension of "Within You Without You" and how it provides a gateway to the chiming guitars of "Lovely Rita." There's no discounting the individual contributions of each member or their producer, George Martin, but the preponderance of whimsy and self-conscious art gives the impression that Paul McCartney is the leader of the Lonely Hearts Club Band.

The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, no strangers to weirdness on their prior 1967 album Part One, had still often stuck to relatively straightforward, concise, and pop-flavored songs on that LP. Here they stretched out into less structured, more avowedly psychedelic (and indeed experimental) territory, with mixed results. "Smell of Incense" (covered for a small hit by Southwest FOB) was sublime psych-pop. Yet "Suppose They Give a War and No One Comes" was just some fool - actually the band's chief investor, lyricist, and tambourine player, Bob Markley - grafting silly, self-consciously freaky recitation of a vintage 1936 Franklin Roosevelt speech onto an ominous fuzz guitar backup. Other cuts like "In the Arena" and "Overture - WCPAEB Part II" were free-form psychedelic creepiness without the strong content of, say, likely influence Frank Zappa…

During 1967-69 avant-garde innovator Albert Ayler recorded a series of albums for Impulse that started on a high level and gradually declined in quality. This LP, Ayler's first Impulse set, was probably his best for that label. There are two selections apiece from a pair of live appearances with Ayler having a rare outing on alto on the emotional "For John Coltrane" and the more violent "Change Has Come" while backed by cellist Joel Friedman, both Alan Silva and Bill Folwell on basses and drummer Beaver Harris. The other set (with trumpeter Donald Ayler, violinist Michel Sampson, Folwell and Henry Grimes on basses and Harris) has a strong contrast between the simple childlike melodies and the intense solos.