Late in 1967 Arthur Lee Harper cut an album in Los Angeles. Even with the studio expertise of Lee Hazlewood, a plum spot on the producer’s LHI Records, and the distribution muscle of the American Broadcasting Company, the LP was not a hit, and with one exception three years later, Harper didn’t record again. Many reissues make it abundantly clear why they missed the marketplace, but Dreams and Images, recently reprinted by Light in the Attic, is simply a modest debut, very much of its era, that retains a sense of artistic promise curtailed.
During the second half of the 1960s the planet was chock-full of idealistic youngsters endeavoring to hit it big, a shared yearning certainly entailing contemporary notions of stardom that in the context of its era also embodied being an agent of positive change. Amid this mass of eager humanity Arthur Lee Harper made it farther than most, his full-length actually getting into racks.
And notably, he did so before the Summer of Love’s energies began going stale, a circumstance due in part to fortuitously hooking up with a singer-songwriter-producer in the midst of a career high. Most famous for his fruitful musical partnership with Nancy Sinatra, Lee Hazlewood was a superb blend of accessibility and idiosyncrasy, and for a few years his fortunes led him to spearhead a label.
Between ’67 and ’71 Lee Hazlewood Industries was more prolific than successful, but some of the enterprise’s best work came early and in association with ABC. The relationship lasted hardly beyond a year, the brevity allowing for the distribution of the solitary, self-titled LP by girl-group Honey Ltd., Safe at Home by the International Submarine Band (whose membership included a young Gram Parsons), and Dreams and Images by Arthur Lee Harper.
As the sleeve illustrates, LHI shortened his handle, the move in retrospect an obvious calculation in response to the popularity of Donovan, and I suspect it seemed as such at the time. It emphasizes that Hazlewood’s venture was far from a hands-off operation (Honey Ltd. had their moniker changed from the more appealing Mama Cats), a reality reinforced in Don Randi’s arrangements for Dreams and Images.
Prior to auditioning for Hazlewood Harper was living at the YMCA, his cohorts in struggle Stephen John Kalinich (the first signee to the Beach Boys’ Brother label, a collaborator on the Boys’ Friends and Dennis Wilson’s Pacific Ocean Blue LPs, and the maker of the 40-years-unreleased and Brian Wilson-produced A World of Peace Must Come) and Mark Lindsey Buckingham (no relation).
Songwriters all, and as the back cover of Dreams and Images spotlights via the stanzas of “Angel/54,” they were individuals harboring poetic aspirations. These days such a desire may resonate as an affectation, but in the post-Dylan ‘60s it wasn’t at all unusual. Happily, Arthur isn’t another Bob imitator; indeed, he’s closer to Donovan’s pre-psych-pop period, though the poet’s touch is mainly observable in vivid, largely unstrained lyricism.
It’s a sensibility enhanced by the concision of the songs, a few almost registering as fragments; nothing here breaks three minutes, a pair even fall under two, and Light in the Attic’s addition of three bonus numbers, additions tacked to the end bringing the total to 13 selections, result in a duration barely exceeding a half hour.
“Blue Museum” starts the album with gentle fingerpicking, Arthur’s high-toned fragile vocalizing entering next. Following thereafter are the Randi-directed strings, though the notes for the reissue detail the singer was involved in the process of supplementing his songs. Immediately apparent is how the music, if minor, avoids the aura of the second-rate.
And unlike the opener, which unfolds as gradually as its 2:35 permits, “Children Once Were You” exudes a subtle uptick in urgency, taking little time in comingling its ingredients as the tempo remains measured. The strings are less lush, and the additive of woodwinds and brass lends the record welcome breadth.
Dreams and Images’ tastefulness, which extends to Frank Morton’s pleasing black and white jacket portraiture (nicely avoiding any potentially garish Summer of Love trend-hopping), ultimately lacks the element of surprise, but in a sense that’s preferable, for tidbits of the unexpected discovered on retrieved material can easily turn into fodder for exasperation.
“Sunshine Soldier” is the hit single that unfortunately never materialized, Arthur’s lyrics timely (and yes dated, but not embarrassing) and his vocals powerful as the horn and what sounds like strings plucked underwater radiate attractive melancholy. “A Friend of Mine” finds Harper breathy and reflective, befitting the tune’s pace (he plainly likes it slow), the cut offering a likeable baroque twist that continues in “Open up the Door,” its singing amongst the LP’s most forceful as the aquatic motif persists.
The title track begins side two with guitar, flute and bowed strings occasionally flourishing into a renaissance fair vibe (so, maybe a small surprise), while the multifaceted arrangement given to “Pandora” is appropriate to Arthur’s bountiful imagery. By contrast, the harp and violins of “Wintertime” are somewhat spare, though together with Arthur’s voice they conjure a fleetingly eerie atmosphere. Toward the end is a found a tough-talking turn of phrase.
“Living Circa 1920” expands the picturesque lyricism; in a different situation its lively flights of near urban-folkiness could’ve been Arthur’s follow-up single. And original closer “Valentine Grey” (later waxed as a 45 for LHI by Danny Michaels) is a particularly strong merger of Randi’s baroque philosophy at its most lush and Arthur’s mildly Leitchian gentleness.
To be sure, rhyming “yellow bouquet” and “velvet sashay” brought a crafty finish to Dreams and Images, but the three added tracks, stripped down to just voice and guitar, don’t blunder. “1860” is a historical narrative, while “Coming Home” delivers full-bodied melodious strum again emitting chart potential; the main hindrance would seem to be its length. “Excursion 13” reclaims urgency for an edgy finale.
As said, a whole lot of kids were out in the streets looking to make it big in 1967. The tiniest fraction pulled it off, and some managed to turn out great, if neglected and forgotten, works of art. Many more floundered, became disillusioned, or even met disagreeable ends. Still others landed a modicum of success; before getting married, raising a daughter, and working as an engineer of rocket engines and as a special education teacher, Arthur Lee Harper cut Dreams and Images. It’s not amazing but it’s far from negligible, and at times it’s rather good.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B
