Pitchfork

Fractals are psychedelic. Twenty-foot-tall praying mantises are psychedelic. Wearing other people's glasses is a little psychedelic. But despite pervasive positioning as a halcyon-era psych-pop masterpiece, The Zombies' 1968 pop epic Odessey & Oracle is not so far-out. Direct, narrative threads and often simple songwriting stand in contrast to Oracle's swirling, ornate cover, crafted by a sense-dulled stoner (hence, "Odessey").

While Odessey and Oracle is definitely one of the great rediscovered works of the psychedelic era-- an under-appreciated record of beauty and foresight-- albums like Love's Forever Changes, Van Dyke Parks' Song Cycle, and even the Beach Boys' Pet Sounds, expanded minds with wider sonic palettes and more daring song structures. The Zombies' four-track recordings subsist on the band's unique style and succinct composition: carefully crafted vocal melodies, bold chord changes and winding resolutions, all colored by heavenly harmonies and strings.

The Zombies released just two proper albums, and, as they broke up immediately after recording Odessey and Oracle, had little impact on the pop music of their day. Time, nostalgia, and perhaps the pop critic's penchant for underdogs sewed considerable retroactive gains for our visionaries, who mined the subtleties of 60s pop and found hints of melancholy wistfulness buried beneath the more pedestrian, sunny harmonies they competed with.

The band's biggest hits ("Tell Her No" and "She's Not There", both from the band's eponymous 1964 debut) had cynical undertones, a trend that continued on Odessey. The album's first cut, "Care of Cell 44", strongly recalls the wide-eyed innocence of Pet Sounds' famous "Wouldn't It Be Nice?" but for the fact that the narrator's lover is, more explicitly, daydreaming in jail. Odessey's single, "Time of the Season", is the album's only stereotypically summer-of-love moment; for the most part, darker tones and the dramatic third person feel are ahead of the present-tense late 60s.

While it wasn't exactly "freakout" music aimed at squares, Odyssey and Oracle is still notable for its experimental bend. The Zombies convinced EMI to let them record it at Abbey Road free of all corporate influence (read: no producers), allowing the band to indulge whatever musical fantasies they came up with. Some members of the band-- most prominently keyboardist Rod Argent-- would go on to careers in prog-rock, and seeds of that genre poke through here. The first clue is an unhealthy preoccupation with historical and literary figures, from the Shakespeare quote in the liner notes, to the Faulkner-derived "A Rose for Emily", to "Butcher's Tale (Western Front 1914)"-- inspired by bassist Chris White's WWI obsession-- The Zombies wore over-education on their sleeves. In many ways, Odessey foretells the flowery baroque prose of 10-minute prog epics to come.

Classicism extends to The Zombies' playing as well; they were formally trained musicians with overt interests in "art music" and jazz. More overtly, there's the sectional composition of their songs, apparent in "Changes", which is most emblematic of the jarring cut-and-paste thematic shifts that separated the fans from the great unwashed.

This reissue, not to be confused with 1998's 30th anniversary import, is sharply re-mastered and contains bonus tracks produced and recorded by various Zombies shortly after their breakup. The bonus material is welcome, offering fascinating distillations of each member's personality, although few listeners will probably care much about the archival mono mixes and edits of some tracks.

Though it may not represent the sprawling, tripped-out experimentation of their times, The Zombies' unique brand of lyric wit and daring arrangement expanded the limits of pop. Odessey and Oracle stands as the band's fully realized statement of intent, the parting shot from one of the few originals in the devolving tail-end of the 1960s.