REVIEW: Ted Lucas Box Set Tells Devastating Story Of What It's Like To Be Human
REVIEW
REVIEW
☆ BY KYLEE WIENS ☆
HOW CAN AN ARTIST’S LIFE BE MEASURED?—Is it by number of commercial successes, or missed opportunities? Is it by perfectly polished and produced releases, or by the grain and surface noise of a demo tape? Is it by their best moments, or their worst? For Ted Lucas, a psych-folk enigma who studied under Ravi Shankar and Harihar Rao, the answer is more complicated.
A storied musician with a museum’s worth of road bumps, detours and adversity, Lucas persisted by way of his love for music and belief in his craft. Something like a musical shapeshifter, he took on many forms and tried on many different hats throughout his career. Some worked better than others. Some failed completely. Yet, Lucas always felt that his music was destined for something greater, something that would outlive his earthly realm. Thanks to independent label Third Man Records, his life’s work has now been compiled into a beautifully tragic 3-LP box set called Images of Life—a physical manifestation of Lucas’ artistic gifts to the world.
The first LP, Strange Mysterious Sounds, tracks Lucas’ early career in various fuzzed-out, atmospheric garage-folk bands in Detroit. His first travelling band, The Spike-Drivers, tapped into the emerging pulse of psych sounds in the mid-to-late 60s. They experienced a brief stint of success and signed to Reprise, but lost a deal with Atlantic Records due to some brash remarks by Lucas. Their sound is temporal and warm, floating through space in a haze of melancholic foreboding. This sound would yield to a more poppy and melodious one for his next project, The Misty Wizards. “It’s Love,” the band’s single recorded with Mothers of Invention drummer Billy Mundi, captures an all-American, flower-power moment in time that oozes with optimism.
The first disc also includes tracks from the very briefly lived Horny Toads, often described as a bluesy bar band brimming with energy. Electric guitar lines float through space at one moment or cut into choruses at the next. Strange Mysterious Sounds captures the electric and glittery trajectory of an early career musician, complete with the trials and tribulations that so often come with. Pressed on translucent orange wax, one can practically hear Lucas’ potential in every groove.
Rainy Days, the second LP, dances into Lucas’ solo recordings and collected works while creating his eponymous 1975 album. Eleven songs recount Lucas’ musings on life, marriage and privilege, and offer listeners an insight into his brainspace while working on his debut record. Much of these works dwell on the tension between domestic comforts and the allure of independence. There’s something intimate and confidential about these recordings, reminiscent of late-night confessions or secrets spilled over wine. “Driftin’ Free” is a poignant example of Lucas’ inner turmoil; lyrics “Where is the one I love? / Is she the one I love? / But do I love her? I love her I do” confront the heartbreaking reality that Lucas’ heart just may not be cut out for a stationary life. His guitar colors the canvas while his soft and warm voice makes broad brushstrokes of a man lost in his own head.
By the album’s release in 1975, Lucas had already started a new rock band called Boogie Disease. The band recorded five rock songs that held plenty of ‘70s promise and catchy hooks, but Lucas’ perfectionism would once again obscure his success. Months upon months of overdubbing led to virtually nothing. Lucas couldn’t figure out a way to put out the songs. By the turn of the decade, Lucas was divorced, and his health had started to decline. Any lingering illusions he had of fame were pretty much dissipated. There is an element of surrender in the third LP, Impossible Love, that is, of course, deeply melancholic. There is also, however, a certain kind of freedom and honesty that Lucas finds in these tracks that feels more sincere than much of his previous work. Almost as if finally able to exhale, Lucas throws caution to the wind and arrives at a sound that beautifully melds both pop and folk sensibilities.
The acoustic rendition of “Impossible Love” is an eerily perfect finale to this box set. “Impossible love / impossible fate / impossible dreams / how long must I wait?” is a relatable and endearing refrain in Lucas’ early career, but feels devastating in the context of his life of many misgivings. Lucas died from sepsis in 1992.
Ultimately, Images of Life is a wonderfully fractal, deeply human and utterly tragic compilation of songs that tell the tale of a man who probably loved music more than life. Lucas’ story feels like a cautionary tale in some ways, but in many others is simply a realistic depiction of being a complicated and nuanced person. His music feels like a mirror to a soul, one that contained much good and love as well as turmoil and uncertainty. In the end, though, Lucas was right. His music now continues to live on beyond him, and his songs are truly a gift to this world.
