The friendliest face in the "P-Funk" universe was none other than William Earl “Bootsy” Collins... but then again, arguably, it was Bootsy and his brother Catfish, who were also among the most radical members of the group during the earlier years. It was their initial appearance which enabled what was then only being called Funkadelic to release one of their more ambitious projects – the sprawling double LP set America Eats Its’ Young – and essentially stabilized the group after many of the original members had left. By the time the reconstituted Parliament and their hits graced the radio waves, they felt like repetitious, regurgitated riffs of tunes they already had conquered on albums past, just watered down for a more mainstream audience. Case in point – Ahh…The Name is Bootsy, Baby, which – do not get me wrong – has some entertainment value in this world, but not even Collins took it serious, treating the album more like a playground for his infectious personality.

Rhodes to the ranch where he goes Mano y Mano with Steve Forrest's hilariously stereotyped character (right down to the bad moustache) while Stefanie Powers has the presence of a two by four. This was how the West was lost.

An underrated disc in the Kyuss catalog, long overshadowed by the heavyweight records that were to follow, like Blues for the Red Sun and Sky Valley. The production is borderline basement-level, John Garcia’s vocals and lyrics are often awkward or just not up to snuff, and the rest of the band is closer to hardcore punk (they were huge Black Flag fans) than the bongload-heavy stoner rock they would become so known for. And yet, when taken on its’ own terms, Wretch is nearly as formidable a package, despite its' beastly tendencies. I believe this is out of print, so snap it up if you come across it.

Coming a couple of years after their most universally acclaimed effort (Blues for the Red Sun), this loose conceptual sprawl of an album sees Kyuss at their most ambitious point. This did not translate into anything beyond cult success, but the spark here is a burning sense of adventure, and it helps if you are predisposed to heavier sounds.

Even though the title hints at this, I’m not sure the band themselves thought it would be the last proper studio album. I think they thought it was business as usual. However, there is no getting around one simple fact about this CD – it’s a heavy, lumbering beast, more like Black Sabbath and early 70’s sludge rock than any Kyuss effort thus far. The dual opener of “Hurricane” followed by “One Inch Man” comes at the listener like a flying ton of bricks. “Hurricane” is neat because the band brings back the old punk-infused energy that was a big characteristic of Wretch, with Garcia howling like mad against the current of fuzz (“I can’t feel nothin’ at all all all!”). Then “One Inch Man” follows like a tongue-in-cheek version of Black Sabbath’s “Paranoid”. From this rousing start takes a more mercurial path, generally relying on Josh’s heavy guitar tones to lead the listener through the rest of the affair. The dank dungeon-ready thump of “Gloria Lewis” – a real showcase for some of Garcia’s greatest screams ever – sets the tone for a mid-section of a CD tailor-made for fogged-up marijuana smokers and bong hitters. The mazes of passages where the band takes you are revelatory (“El Rodeo”), with only “Jumbo Blimp Jumbo” making the mistake of being static. Then the ending section picks up with another punk-influenced track (“Tangy Zizzle”) followed by a couple of interesting asides – “Size Queen”, which is reggae-meets-metal, and “Catamaran”. Finally, Homme’s showcase “Spaceship Landing” is a throwback to the multi-part madness of Sky Valley, but does not feel as essential as anything from that album, I’m afraid. The other thing which annoys me mildly here is the actual track runs for over 34 minutes with added oddities tacked on which are quite unnecessary to hear. Overall, a pretty nice way for Kyuss to go off into the sunset…at least, this is how I prefer to remember them going off into the sunset. I don’t get the general critical downturn of opinion – …And the Circus Leaves Town is worth price of admission, and then some.