The ‘Hogs third, and some would say, most meaningful salvo in this run, is quite reminiscent of Thank Christ for the Bomb in many aspects. In fact, one could say the band was upping their game from a conceptual point of view – starting from the comic book style album cover, to the aural contents within. McPhee’s lyrics tackle environmental ills more than ever before, but he delivers them with a wry wink and a smile, as if to say – we contributed to this mess, and we are going down for these sins at the end of it all. The one minor quibble I have here is, unlike the previous two efforts, there really was not any particular track I connected to, and I am even counting the furious jam at the end (“The Grey Maze”). This time around, Tony didn’t come off as very angry or even emotional about saving the world – it was more like he and his mates we were viewing the thing with detached amusement and/or sarcasm for a time, then stepping in with their assessments. Technically, the up-and-down/rages of the past are generally discarded in favor of mid-tempo, thick, blues-derived laments, some of which border on the quiet side (“Music is the Food of Thought”). But I do not feel the band really let loose until the finale, “The Grey Maze”, which is ten minutes of frenzied jamming, and incidentally does give one the feel of being trapped in a dank, dark maze. I’ve read many takes trashing the treatment of “Amazing Grace”, but I go the other way – considering the theme here, I actually think the band’s cover is quite appropriate. One other thing to mention is on this album, you begin to hear the start of McPhee’s dalliances with instruments other than guitar – there is mellotron and harmonium used on a few tracks here. This would come to full fruition on the next Groundhogs record, and on Tony’s solo record as well. It gives the experience a slightly different feel. Overall, despite the differences mentioned I still think it stands proud next to the other albums from this era of the ‘Hogs. I definitely recommend it.

The second album in this early 70s Groundhog run finds McPhee turning inward, from his experience with a panic attack. Of course, based on the time period and general tone, one would naturally assume drugs were involved, but from what I’ve read on McPhee, he was not a drug user. Anyway, the title track is a big, four-section movement of sorts – nothing much to do with classical music – but it starts off with McPhee making allusions to the morning being a “thousand miles away”, and by the time it wraps up, you have been through the ringer and then some. “Split” is obviously heavy, personal, emotional stuff he needed to unburden from his psyche. Whether it is as cutting and directly grabbing as the material from the previous album – well, I have my doubts – but then again, this is a different experience altogether, and taken on its’ own terms, the deal is executed as well as it should be. Even better is “Cherry Red”, a 50’s derived, proto-punk-ish rave-up where McPhee hits the highest registers that his voice will allow – whether this is out of pure joy or anger is up for small debate, but still, this is the most butt-kickin’ track here by a long shot. What follows is more along the lines of previous works – “A Year in the Life” and “Junkman” have serious echoes of the class and environmental concerns which was all over Thank Christ for the Bomb, while “Groundhog” reminds us of the band’s past, being a cover of a John Lee Hooker tune, replete with judicious use of slide guitar. In conclusion, it’s pretty much like we have two distinct EP’s smashed together for one cool odds-and-ends mish-mash LP, which is fine by me, and I’m sure many other listeners out there.

What the duo puts together here is a beguiling, curious mixture of soul, folk, rock, and even funk – a real crossroads of an album which their songwriting and harmonies and personalities not only hold together but flourish. The whole “Abandoned Luncheonette” theme – it is kind of a concept, kind of just a loose thread holding the thing in place – that feeling of something old and decrepit and decaying and on its’ way out, and yet from its’ ashes something springs anew, completely innocent of what came before it and ready to carry on again. “When the Morning Comes” starts the album off on a rather innocuous note, but it builds from there, jumping up in intensity. By the time one arrives at the desperate, slow-burning groove of “She’s Gone”, you know what you are in store for, and the strange thing is, not even half of the album is through yet. The tile track is a microcosm of the album, for sure, going though in a little under four minutes the life cycle I described above, with Hall and Oates joining in with the background vocalists at the end of the track, ringing out “month to month, year to year” like their lives depended on it. Then “Lady Rain” comes on, which contains some very strange progressive stylings, including a bizarre electric violin solo, just to up the ante even further. Finally, the weird mélange of styles that is “Every Time I Look at You” ends the record on another head-scratching note. This one veers from street-walking funk to sing-along groove to – where in the hell did that country-pickin’ banjo come from – and all of the sudden the song fades out on this really strange tangent.The whole thing needs to be heard in full, and many times, at that. Obviously, only portions of this rather loose style would be incorporated into the future act, but for now, it’s great to hear from the perspective that once upon a great time, the H20 boys could art rock and roll with the best of them, at least for an album or two.

This is arguably a better, more consistent record than the bigger-selling Blow My Fuse, but whatever reason it turned out to be Kix's final fleeting shot at commercial glory. Too bad. Not sure if you can blame the ascent of grunge for this, but in retrospect, the two albums are carbon copies of each other - right down to power ballads in the fourth track position ("Tear Down These Walls"), and the continuing theme of "Cold" songs (here it's "Cold Chills"). Yet another terribly unoriginal and thoroughly entertaining record.

After three under the radar albums, Kix finally hit the big leagues with Blow My Fuse, who most people know for the one-hit wonder power ballad "Don't Close Your Eyes". But the group had been around since the early 80's, mucking around the East Coast, while another more famous East Coast band - Poison - had swiped their act from under them, went to L.A., and rocketed to fame just a few years earlier. Kix doesn't waste their bullets here: Blow My Fuse is a prime dose of glam-n-glitter entertainment, chock full of hair metal clichés but somehow not getting caught up in them. The first three albums have their moments but certainly, this album was the deserved culmination of a long decade of hard work. Not to be missed.