Earlier the same year, Hawkwind had played at a London benefit concert for the Greasy Truckers, an alternative music organization. The subsequent double live album included a full side of Hawkwind but, more significantly, an outtake from it, the queerly poppy space- chug "Silver Machine." Penned by Brock (under his then- wife's name), it was released as a single and became Hawkwind's only UK hit — a huge one, which didn't appear on LP until years later. That success financed the tour chronicled on Space Ritual. The double live LP (from London and Liverpool) includes versions of "Master of the Universe" and two-thirds ofDoremi's songs (although two had chunks cut out); the new material included Calvert and Brock's synth-embroidered recitations of scary scenarios (e.g., the armageddon classic "Sonic Attack") penned by Calvert and their new buddy, noted sci- fi novelist Michael Moorcock. The LP is solid to super, and not as longwinded as you might imagine. -- Trouser PressYou never see any Hawkwind albums in bargain bins because they never get there. The unsold copies are apparently re-released with gaudy new covers and resold at regular prices. And that simply makes Space Ritual twice, because this is a double package. For the benefit of those who insist this is truly a new LP set, please note that the bassist is still playing his same two notes...The group's real efforts seem to go into making up the record-album covers. This one folds six separate times before it's capable of holding the album intact. At the very least, Hawkwind's continued existence proves that somebody out there is still doing acid. -- Alan Niester, RS
Alan Niester does not seem to realize that this is a live album. And in spite of his idiotic review, I would go so far as to say that this is one of the few cases where a live album is the band's definitive recording.
Hawkwind is a loose collective of David Brock and whoever he happens to be playing with - members of the band have ranged from Robert Calvert to Lemmy to Ginger Baker. The one consistent feature throughout Hawkwind's four decade existence, though, is the hopeless indulgence of this band. The twenty minute suites, the sword and sorcery lyrics and "mystic" poetry recitations interspersed throughout the band's live show - one of their best songs is called "Master of the Universe" for chrissake - all of these things have relegated Hawkwind to cult status in the U.S. But somehow, instead of a liability, Brock's penchant for excess, which is practically Hawkwind's defining quality, is actually this band's greatest strength. However ridiculous the subject matter of the songs, at their best, this band's gargantuan, consuming sound is simply awesome.
John Swenson rated every Hawkwind LP one star in the RS Record Guide, save the debut (their worst album!), which he gave two stars. Swenson wrote: "Concept overshadows the music pretty drastically throughout the Hawkwind opus, and whatever social importance the band might have been credited with has dissipated over the years. Anachronistically, they still plug on." I would say this description completely mischaracterizes the band - if anything, the lyrics are merely a set piece for David Brock's phenomenal, otherworldly guitar playing.
Lester Bangs was seemingly the only RS critic that didn't completely loathe Hawkwind. He reviewed the band's second album, In Search of Space, in the 6/22/72 issue:
"If you're glad that most of that stuff is part of the past now, you'll probably think this album is a pile of dogshit. If, on the other hand, you remember the absolute glee of filling your skull with all those squawks and shrieks and backwards-tapes and telegraphic open-tuned bridges between indescribable inner worlds conjured best neither by this music nor psychedeliteful elixirs but rather by a fortuitous combination of the two - if that was one of your favorite eras in the decline of Western Civilization, then you'd better glom onto this album... which may not be rock 'n' roll, but certainly beats "Fire 'n' Rain.""
Fair enough, though I resent the insinuation that you have to be in a "psychedeliteful" haze to enjoy this music.
As Joe Carducci wrote in his Psychozoic Hymnal: "Brock's guitar provided a heavily distorted wall of sound that rose and fell as if it were some bonehead bass line. Lemmy's bass with its high end distortion would roam around carrying the melody with it. Nick Turner played two or maybe three note patterns on the sax that would fade in and then fade out like old Nick was only orbiting this planet. Terry Ollis or Simon King on drums would keep up a straight pulsing pattern. Dik Mik, Del Dettmar and Simon House might then add odd spiraling electronic noises - strictly low tech action - or they might have to help the roadies keep Brock and Turner propped up. Bob Calvert or Michael Moorcock might be found jabbering on about Vikings and space maidens over the top of it all. And all together it sounded great - a soaring, psychedelic hard rock drone. The fourth album, a live double titled, Space Ritual, is a viable substitute for actually getting wasted yourself."
Hawkwind was omitted from the third and subsequent editions of the guide. -- schmidtt, Rolling Stone's 500 Worst Reviews of All Time
...released the excellent album Doremi Fasol Latido in November and a month later staged the concerts from which Space Ritual was comprised. Hawkwind's visual side was always a large part of their concert event, from Liquid Len's kaleidoscopic light show to Amazonian dancer Stacia, the so-called "Barbarella of Notting Hill Gate." Although this was reduced to a foldout gatefold cover, the double-album still presents the full-on live Hawkwind trip over four glorious sides of vinyl. Some of the material was from previous albums, some new, but none of that really matters. Throughout, the chug-a-chug rhythm of Lemmy and King is relentless as Hawkwind's pace rock drives forward; the atmospheric synthesizers of Dik Mik and Del Dettmar and the spoken word of Bob Calvert, quite reminiscent of Arthur Brown here, provide interlude. Certainly closer to heavy metal than anything prog rock, Hawkwind's sound is definitely guilty of being monochromatic; but never mind, the songs never really begin or end - the whole ship takes off and at the end of the journey it stops, it s grittiness always rendering it both genuine and enduring. The album reached No. 9 in the UK. Later in the year, Hawkwind toured the US for the first time. -- C. Snider
Hawkwind had been traveling long and hard on the road and in (and out) of their minds for the previous two years, and their sound reflected this by getting harder, louder and faster. And it was all captured on this beautiful, psychic roar-out of a double live set. Culled from recordings made at The Liverpool Empire and The Brixton Sundown in late December, 1972, two tracks were so long they needed to be edited down to into order to fit the whole shebang onto two albums. Ads promoted it as “88 minutes of brain damage” and “Space Ritual” did not disappoint, outside or in: the cover housing these two discs folded out into a double-sided 24” x 36” poster of scientific miscellany, obscure quotes merged with colourful sci-fi pop art from the ever-wonderful Barney Bubbles. All but two songs from their previous studio album, “Doremi Fasol Latido” are present and given strenuous workouts: stretched out beyond all recognition into space metal jamming sprees that took off and never came back. The sheer power of the repetition represented here become mantra-like walls of sound, all held together by Dave Brock’s sonic mortar guitar and the stunning rhythm section of Lemmy Kilminster on bass and Simon King on stamina-driven drums that (according to one recent source) hit 250 beats per minute! They are joined by Nik Turner on sax and vocals, Robert Calvert on spoken link incantations, and electronics duo Dikmik and Del Dettmar on audio generator and synthesizer, respectively. They were joined in these and many of their performances throughout the first part of the seventies by Stacia, their dancer immortalised on the cover as a naked astral mama proffering fireballs flanked by two equally fiery dragons.
The opening track, “Earth Calling” is a brief spoken passage that smears right into the Calvert composition, “Born To Go”: a barnstormer deluxe that for nearly ten minutes immediately loses you in a blur of distorted metal guitar repeat patterning and quick, pulsating rhythms. “Lord Of Light” is another example of this consciousness-altering, repetitious zone-out. Its holding pattern continues for half the album side it kicks off as a huge battering ram making its way across the universe as it gathers momentum and finally lands on the back of your head. Huge, patterning shapes appear and disappear; galaxies collide in slow motion and are all driven by Lemmy’s neck-snapping pulsebass: as architecturally perfect as they are full-blown rockin’. Another Calvert original, “Orgone Accumulator,” is a tripping cousin of “Green Onions” gone horribly awry. Just about every word in the English language that rhymed with ‘accumulator’ were used by Calvert for the lyrics to this space-boogie stomp -- ‘greater,’ ‘later,’ ‘integrator’, ‘isolator,’ ‘stimulator,’ ‘vibrator,’ etc. -- and it continues like this for a very long time, singular in its purpose. “Sonic Attack” is a psychotic rant orally transmitted by the self-styled space age poet, Robert Calvert in a furious manner that is both sinister and funny, and it trails off -- BLAM -- Right into a version of “Time We Left This World Today” even more disorientating and nausea-inducing than its studio counterpart. You can practically see the strobes start up.
“Brainstorm” is a heat-seeking missile to the centre of your cerebral cortex: more relentless, distorted riffing with unbalanced electronics over pagan-simple drums all race to the end of each chorus, where they trail off like comets…only to start up all over again as they gun full blast into the next dimension with thrusters full on as Starship Hawkwind begins to buckle with metal fatigue. This interstellar rollercoaster ride repeats for what seems the quickest eternity until it breaks down a final time to wild cheering and applause. ”Welcome To Future” ends the album, with evocative oratory from Calvert. It ends (of course) in a massive burnout of distortion, feedback and electronic swirls to wild applause. This is Hawkwind’s best album...Sorry, man, I seem to have dropped my mandies... -- The Seth Man, Head Heritage
I interviewed Luke Haines for Noisey last year and, naturally, talk turned to Hawkwind, or as he called them the band that Pink Floyd could have been, if they'd been less middle class and shit. (At least I think that's what he said, it was a very odd morning.) I also asked him what people should do to remember the recently departed Huw Lloyd-Langton and he replied simply, "Levitate" in reference to the band's excellent 1980 album Levitation. After you have done this you could celebrate your return to Terra Firma with a blast of this astounding 1973 live set recorded in London and Liverpool. Lloyd-Langton wasn't part of the line-up at this point, having departed to play guitar for Leo Sayer, but regardless this, to many, is the ultimate space rock artefact: bonkers Bob Calvert poetry, whirring hyperdrive oscillators, interstellar dust cloud flute solos, a performance piece written by sci-fi author Michael Moorcock ['Sonic Attack'], a starship hull blistering performance of 'Space Is Deep' and the unstoppable cider, amphetamine and motor oil chug of 'Orgone Accumulator', all linked into a preposterous tale of astronauts traversing the galaxy in hypersleep, and encased in fantastic faux art deco packaging, based on Hawkwind's painted Amazonian dancer Stacia, pictured with plasma flowing from her fingertips flanked by giant firey eagles and what appear to be golden space leopards. -- John Doran, The Quietus
Featuring the classic lineup of guitarist/vocalist (and founder) Dave Brock, poet Robert Calvert, saxophonist/flautist Nik Turner, bassist Lemmy Kilmister, drummer Simon King, synth player Del Dettmar, and electronics man DikMik, this double live album is Hawkwind's magnum opus and perhaps the ultimate sonic trip.
Devised by Calvert, the urban guerillas' 1972 tour was a multimedia concept involving naked dancers, cosmic stage design and costume, and a kaleidoscopic lights and lasers show. Songs from the group's second and third LPs, In Search of Space and Doremi Fasol Latido, were linked by eerie sound collages and spoken-word pieces. These formed a pseudo-operatic narrative about seven cosmonauts traveling in a state of suspended animation. That said, it is the musical anthems that provide the highlights on disc. "Born To Go" and the pulverizing "Brainstorm" are driven by metronomic bass and marinated in whooshing effects. The phased and confused "Orgone Accumulator" and blissed-out "Space Is Deep" create a more lysergic ambience, while contrasting "Master Of The Universe" is a brain-frying piledriver composed of hypno-metal riff, intergalactic oscillator grooves, and comic book fantasy.
Hawkwind continued to release great records throughout the 1970s, but later decades saw a number of personnel changes and dodgy "official bootlegs" diminish their status (although Brock is still plugging away). Nevertheless, their audiovisual presentation has proved hugely influential. -- Manish Agerwal, 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die