The Seventy Sevens: The Seventy Sevens/Pray Naked (1992)

Tracks:

1. Woody
2. Smiley Smile
3. Phony Eyes
4. Kites Without Strings
5. Happy Roy
6. Deep End
7. The Rain Kept Falling in Love
8. Holy Hold
9. Look
10. Nuts for You
11. Pray Naked
12. Self-Made Trap

The Seventy Sevens Mark Three line-up seems to have come together almost by alchemy rather than chemistry.  Roe managed to bring back the ever-reliable "A-Train" Aaron Smith (who strangely is not featured in any of the group photos and is credited with "pounding and thrashing" as opposed to "drums and percussion"), but also brought in members of the rock group Strawmen: bassist Mark Harmon (no relation to the St. Elsewhere and NCIS star, thus bringing in another TV celebrity namesake) and guitarist David Leonhardt.  The result of this weird Sacramento Stew is an album that could be the most schizoid (and therefore one of the most compelling) in the Sevens' catalog: What do you get if you formed a super group with Roger McGuinn, Jimmy Page, and Dick Dale?  Three old guys hiding behind Mike Roe, Dude!

The schizophrenia starts with the title itself: Pray Naked was submitted to Brainstorm Artists International, but in a move right up there with the skittish response to Vigilantes of Love's "Love Cocoon" single, the label shipped to retailers with the album and song title wiped out, thus becoming the second record named The Seventy Sevens  (At least there wasn't 77s on the cover to add further confusion).  Seems believers don't like the two words together, even though it's a rather cool concept, being "naked prey" in one's relationship with the Almighty.

The title track is indeed typically off-kilter: we have a voice message from an unknown Hindu translating the words into Urdu, then the standard 3-minute intro, featuring trippy Eastern modes, fast Latin rhythms, and shrieking riffs, followed by an eight-line vocal section sung to an almost sappy pop melody, then a scorching rockabilly-meets-Zeppelin solo, leading into a crazy call-and-response spelling lesson/victory chant, ending with a frenetic rock raga.  Think "Mystic Eyes" on acid, drenched in patchouli oil.  The result is one of their greatest hard rock workouts.

The other great rocker is the opener, the enigmatically-titled "Woody."  Lyrically, it's another "Fell-on-my-butt-before-the-Lord-and-cried-out-Mercy, Mercy" confessional, but that's not where all the fun is: it's in the Nugent-esque riff that Roe cranks out, along with Harmon's ponderous bass and Smith's echo-laden but leaden drums, that turns the pop rock band of the 80s into the light heavyweight metalheads of the 90s.  The song ends after seven minutes in a cacophony of grinding riffs, swirling beats, and feedback, cutting away suddenly into the quiet organ meditation "Smiley Smile," which indeed sounds like the long-lost title track from the Beach Boys' 1967 album.  

If one were to listen to the beginning and end of the record, one would think this was a hard rock album.  But that would be missing the jingle and jangle of the indie pop chestnuts in between.  Through a half-dozen folky rock numbers--several of which were recycled Strawmen tunes--Roe & Co. channel the Byrds with clean, ringing guitars, breezy melodies, and shimmering harmonies.  And it's here that the true pathology of Pray Naked's multiple personality disorder is manifested.  On one side, we have the vaunted headbangers who crank out heavy riffage and bludgeoning rhythms, on the other side heartfelt singers of pretty power pop like "Phony Eyes," which could just as easily have been recorded by any number of female-led college rock bands of the 80s.  Or "The Rain Kept Falling in Love," an even mellower pop gem with a big chorus; or "Happy Roy," with falsetto notes and almost child-like melodies.  

This two-sided coin could be a drawback with a lesser band, but with the chameleon-like 77s, it's really business as usual.  It's just that the variegation of the styles that have been more streamlined on previous efforts is so bipolar on this album.  It comes off as two different bands fighting for one stage, but the common denominator is the same as always: Mike Roe's sharp but smooth guitar riffs and pop sensibilities bring the whole jambalaya together.  Still, I find the sparkle pop somewhat disappointing.  The driving power of "Woody" and the mad panegyrics of "---- -----" (the record company's rendering of the title track on the back cover) make me want to hear more of the heavy stuff, but I have to trudge through the jungle of jangle and chime to get there.  Still, it's pretty scenery all along the way...