The Children - Rebirth (Reissue) (1968/2002)

The first half of Rebirth is a rather phenomenal document: mood-driven and densely textured psychedelia at its very best. "Daybreak" opens the album with what seems to be a fairly quaint ditty until its controlled eruptions of orchestration, unique and enticing, cause the music to grow in dimension. "Maypole" also initially leans toward preciousness, the themes of childhood naïveté employed by dozens of bands in the wake of Sgt. Pepper's, but in its seesawing-calliope backing and minor-key shifts there is also something compellingly creepy that resonates more of shadows than innocence. It leads wonderfully into "Don't Ever Lose It," a macabre fairy tale as enigmatically disorienting as it is rocking, and the delicate "Beautiful," which (particularly owing to Stephen Perron's haunting vocals) lives up to its title in the spookiest of ways. "Sitting on a Flower," a Cassell Webb showcase, is also powerful stuff. The album's only significant failing is a tendency during its last half to lose sight of the experience it means to convey. The honky tonk parody "Military School" (which is quite interesting musically) may be a timely parable of the imbroglio in Vietnam, but it feels like an alien presence on the album, as does the goofy "I Got Involved," more akin to a 1930s radio commercial. The album rights itself nicely with "Pictorial," an epic, enveloping piece of acid dementia, and the equally fierce "Dreaming Slave," with its funky bursts of vibey jazz. Regardless of its flaws, Rebirth proves the Children to be one of the finest and most fascinating forgotten bands of the era.