Growing up in post World War II England allowed a young Brian Auger to take in the sounds of jazz as a result of an American military force in the area. So thanks to Armed Forces Radio, the occasional brilliance of Auger's keyboards were birthed. And while the world would probably be roughly the same with or without his musical contributions to jazz, Auger and his newly constituted Oblivian Express unloose some pretty heavy content on their first, self titled recording from 1971. Having said that, though, only about half of the songs here are of any consequence.

Beginning in the '60s playing with a variety of soon to be rock icons, Auger was able to make some of his first recordings with Sonny Boy Williamson. Through the rest of the decade he worked with various incarnations of a band he called Trinty that also counted Julie Driscol as a vocalist. And while those albums met with a pretty decent amount of success despite the slight vocals being set atop some big grooves, by the end of the decade Auger had grown enamored with the maturing fusion scene that included one time partner John McLaughlin. As a result of the guitarist's ability to move effortlessly back and forth between a jazz and rock sensibility, he was afforded a post in the Miles Davis group during it's time exploring some sensible fusion - that just means before Agartha.

But disregarding the trajectory of Davis' career, Auger sought to, in some ways, emulate that sound. Putting together a group that was to roughly approximate the sound didn't seem to pose too much trouble. Although, the names that grace the liner notes of this 1971 disc probably aren't too well known, the ensemble is more than capable of raving up a huge funk while interspersing some aggressive guitar theatrics.

The album, though, should have been tracked differently. There were certainly some fans that were partial to the instrumentals, but not so much the vocal tracks - and the opposite was probably true as well. However, the way that the disc is sequenced makes sitting back and listening from end to end a bit difficult. The spacey atmospherics on "Total Eclipse," supplied in no sort order by Augers keyboards, most likely weren't to everyone's liking. But just in the same way, his vocals on "The Light," even if the song is musically strong, could present a problem to those that don't care to traffic in cheese ball '70s singing.

While the ridiculous portions of this recording do crop up on all too frequently, the music that accompanies these vocal outbursts of futility - as on "Sword," which might have been passed off as a track from Cream - can't be shorn of its natural aggression or well meaning intent. While Tony Williams and Lifetime might have been able to figure out the music just as well as the Oblivian Express, at least they left the vocals alone - for the most part. And while this offering from Auger is supposed to be one of his best, it might still only be for the devout fusion junkie.