Da Capo

Arthur Lee and his group of Los Angeles misfits dubbed Love transformed in front of everyone’s ears from an energetic punkish folk-rock group with their self-titled 1966 debut into an orchestrated psychedelic marvel with their third album, 1968’s Forever Changes. 1967’s Da Capo served as the living bridge, a satisfyingly schizophrenic collection that highlights the band’s initial energy (“Stephanie Knows Who,” “Seven and Seven Is”) with their emerging ornate melodicism and the full fruition of Lee’s tremendous songwriting (“Orange Skies,” “!Que Vida!” “She Comes In Colors”). By slowing the tempos, adding flute, clearing room for a cascading organ and Spanish guitar, and indulging Lee’s silky smooth vocals, the songs open in unforeseen directions. The sidelong jam “Revelation” is a 19-minute excursion that starts off tentatively with standard issue blues shouting but culminates in an inspired jazz-influenced, raga-style frenzy. It’s not as much of a revelation as, say, the album coming next, but it well demonstrates the band’s range.