Featured Essay: Preserving History By Mistake

by Bill Cooper

At a thrift store, flipping through records I found the typical fare: Lawrence Welk, Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, and Mantovani & His Orchestra. They weren’t what I was looking for, and soon my eyes began to glaze over. I almost missed the crate underneath the sea of country western and showtune LPs, but something told me to look down. Lo and behold was a bounty from the gods of rock. Within the confines of a baby blue milk crate were many great records found at basement bin prices! I snagged a bunch of different ones, each for a dollar, but it was Chicago X that would be the real steal, though not for the reasons you may think. 

It took me a while to realize it. Because I had such a large haul, it took time to listen to them all. And unintentionally or perhaps by fate, Chicago X was the last on my listening list. When I took the record out of its sleeve, I found a surprise within. There was an additional one stacked on top of the Chicago record — something called Salvation Gypsy Carnival Caravan. On a cursory look, I figured this was some obscure title from the prog-rock band Caravan and put it on my mental to-do list to look into later. However, it fell into obscurity for a few more months as I’m not a die-hard Caravan fan. I knew I could wait.

When the time eventually came, I had to admit I was a bit nervous to play it on my turntable, as this record was beat up with scratches and scuffs galore. Could my needle withstand the abuse? I weighed the costs and decided I had to give it a shot. After all, it was a free record and I had to know what it sounded like. Thankfully, it was better than I expected. Though surface noise was present with the three Rice Krispie mascots of Snap, Krackle, and Pop, the music still shone through.

However, instead of the synth-laden prog tones I expected, there were warbly psychedelic guitars, grooving basslines, and drunken, loose drum beats. At this point, I realized something funny was going on, and I typed the record title into my browser. What I found blew my mind. This wasn’t the band Caravan. Instead, this was an even more obscure release by the ‘60s psych rock band Salvation — worth over a hundred dollars in good condition.

Not that mine was, especially without the cover. Good thing I wasn’t planning on selling it anyway. These psych-rock records are often capsules of another time, and they’re rare because most had limited pressings. Though enjoyable by today’s standards, Salvation’s music fell into a niche camp of “druggie music” reminiscent of the Grateful Dead with long instrumental jams taking up a large part of the record. Take Side 2’s first track, “The Salvation Jam,” an instrumental featuring many long, winding guitar solos and even a sax solo. It’s a little off-beat for the radio of the era, but for a modern listener, it’s the nexus between jazz fusion and psych-rock. For me, in other words, bliss.

But it’s really “Yuk Yuk” that takes the cake, utilizing stream-of-consciousness lyrics and trippy background choices. Take these lyrics, for example: “I took a trip to southern California and I got no sleep/ The paper comes tomorrow/ I wait for tomorrow/ Cause I’m down in LA but I’m going up to New York City.” Even if these don’t appeal to you, the periodic laughter between guitar distortion and thumping bass lines certainly will.

There isn’t much about Salvation on the internet beyond a Wikipedia page and a few assorted links explaining the group’s brief history. Originally named the New Salvation Army Banned, the group had to change its name to avoid being sued by The Salvation Army. Though they opened for big acts like The Doors and Big Brother and the Holding Company, neither of their two records were successful and they eventually broke up in 1970.

Though entertaining and incredibly fun to put on my turntable, the personal discovery element of how I came across this LP is what gives it a special place in my heart. At some point, this album’s previous owner made a simple mistake, taking one of their records and putting it in Chicago X’s jacket. But that mistake made it possible for me to discover a band that, in most ways, was lost to history. It’s not like you can pull this band up on any streaming service. The only other option to listen to this record other than owning it is a YouTube video where someone recorded their own turntable playing the record.

This is the beauty of vinyl in a world of streaming services. Unlike the impermanent nature of these platforms where at any second your favorite record can disappear or not be present in the first place, here within the grooves of a black slab the music can persist for years and years. Long after most knowledge of the band has passed, the history lurks there, waiting to be unlocked. All you need is a needle. And of course, the hope that someone else’s mistake is your gain.

Bill Cooper writes about music obsessively. He’s a regular contributor to Spectrum Culture, writing deep dives retrospectives and album reviews for new releases by little-known and well-known artists alike. When he’s not writing, he’s browsing records he can’t afford or finding ways to resurrect old technology from the grave. Find more by him here: https://spectrumculture.com/author/bill-cooper