The s in "Sessions" is important here. Contrary to certain claims, the
Lost Sessions CD does not represent that Holy Grail of '60s aficionados and collectors: the elusive "lost album." What it is, though, should be plenty good enough for most fans of the era's music. The compilation pulls together recordings made during several trips to the recording studio by
Eternity's Children between 1966 and 1972, and if the sum of the album doesn't necessarily trump its individual parts,
The Lost Sessions is nevertheless a fascinating hodgepodge encompassing a couple different lineups of the group and at least twice as many interesting shifts in musical style. Roughly the first half of the album was recorded by the first, six-piece incarnation of the band, led by singer and keyboardist
Bruce Blackman. It includes a few decent
Blackman originals (the best being the surly, bad-mojo
"Can't Put a Thing Over Me"), the hit single-quality,
sunshine pop version of the '60s chestnut
"A Taste of Honey," and several Summer of Love songs -- including the captivating
David Gates-penned
ballad "Wait and See" -- produced by the
Music Machine member and
Curt Boettcher associate
Keith Olsen (who would also be responsible for the production of the group's minor 1968
pop-
psych hit
"Mrs. Bluebird"). Following the commercial failure of band's first LP, however,
Blackman and two other members left. After picking up keyboardist
Mike McClain,
Eternity's Children continued as a quartet under the direction of longtime
Boettcher pal, recording engineer
Gary Paxton. In addition to a second album (
Timeless) and a couple singles, this version of the group, now fronted almost exclusively by
Linda Lawley, recorded extensively over the next three years, and its music represented the emerging polyglot milieu of the era: the cosmopolitan, elegant
sophisti-pop of songwriter
Jimmy Webb's
"Girl's Song" and
Lawley-
McClain's own
"Living Easy," a soaring approximation of
the 5th Dimension's sleek
pop-soul; a surprisingly proficient cover of
Sly & the Family Stone's
"Somebody's Watching You" that genuinely challenges the original; the
go-go, blue-eyed
gospel of
Ike Clanton's
"Down the Aisle"; the
country-soul of
Ronnie Self's
"Railroad Trestle in California"; and a funky, testifying version of
Laura Nyro's
"Woman's Blues." As an album,
The Lost Sessions is all over the place, but as a collection,
Gear Fab has done '60s fans a historical service. ~ Stanton Swihart