Produced by former Pretty Things guitarist Dick Taylor, Hawkwind's first album was rightfully compared to Pink Floyd's early sound; an appealing conglomeration of hippie rock grooves and interplanetary guitar trips set to the phosphorescent wandering of Dik Mik's electronics and Nik Turner's cool sax playing. Hawkwind may not have been their most lucrative album, but it's where it all began. Hawkwind's initial galactic blues-rock sound is based on Dave Brock's guitar playing, rising smoke-like through the haze of lyrical space-funk. The two opening tracks set the tone, with "The Reason Is" sinking in nicely to the mood of both Dave Brock's and John Harrison's guitar viscosity. After this, the real Hawkwind begins to emerge, as the eight-minute "Be Yourself" is delightfully plastered with echoed vocals and comic-book ominousness, putting drummer Terry Olis in the spotlight this time. "Seeing It As You Really Are" moves hauntingly forward through the blackness of space as a constant jam, with the keyboards, saxophone, and guitar set adrift on a nonstop instrumental voyage. What begins to materialize throughout this debut album is the band's trademarked sound as a whole, with each player making their instrument effectual and authoritative from the get-go. Hawkwind's sound indeed solidified as their career moved upwards through the '70s, but their first album magnificently introduces the starting point of what was going to be a long and peculiar journey.

(by Mike DeGagne, AMG)

This is shit. Not THE shit (isn't it funny how it is possible to change the sense around with just one innocent use of the definite article?), just shit. I've heard rumours, of course, that the band's debut album was insecure and not quite fit to its higher standards, but I had no idea that this would turn out to be that bad. One thing's for certain: already at that time, Dave Brock was obsessed with sci-fi thematics and was totally inclined to put his music to the service of guys like Michael Moorcock. Just look at the album cover for Chrissake; doesn't it remind you of the final scenes in Half-Life, what with all those monsters drifting among weird green isles in a sea of red unidentified liquid? Pretty cool, although the album cover is certainly the best thing here.
Because essentially, at this point Dave Brock still didn't quite understand how exactly he would proceed to fulfill his inclinations. Out of the seven tracks on here, only two can be qualified as 'songs' - even according to classic Hawkwind status, that is, if we're willing to call long mantraic stuff like 'Orgone Accumulator', etc., 'songs'. And frankly speaking, none of these two songs are treasurable. 'Hurry On Sundown' begins with a few obligatory sitar-imitating notes and then transforms into a rather pedestrian folksy shuffle. It's nice and atmospheric, but certainly nowhere near memorable or particularly expressive. And the album closer, 'Mirror Of Illusion', does boast a fast menacing bassline that vaguely predicts Hawkwind's rip-roaring rifffests that would follow, but very vaguely. It's just a merry-go-round hippiesque song, actually, not unlike something you could hear coming out of San Francisco a couple years ago. Neither of the two songs really give you a hint at the band's upcoming fortes.
Still, these two songs are masterpieces compared to what lies in between. In between lie several lengthy "astral jams", but wait, I shouldn't really be calling this crap "astral jams", because it sounds more like random sound collages and bunches of noise. Imagine, say, an early version of Tangerine Dream, with a bit more diversity about the sounds they're producing, but without a single clue of where to go, and you'll pretty much get the idea. Almost no vocals on here, just endless "sonic panoramas" that are so much of an acquired taste I don't even know from which angle to approach them. Only the main body of 'Be Yourself' actually has any kind of rhythm: a dull, plodding one, something in between a generic Santana-inspired Latin shuffle and the trademark Bo Diddley beat, never faltering, never really going anywhere, and without a single half-interesting solo on top. The others, such as 'The Reason Is?', 'Paranoia', and particularly the hideous monster 'Seeing It As You Really Are', just suck in the corner.
I don't want to offend any Hawkwind fan, but come on now, it's obvious that in 1970 Dave Brock and his partners were just a bunch of navel-gazers, reveling in sonic experimentation a la Pink Floyd and early Krautrock bands (they certainly must have heard some Amon Düül II or Can by that time) without having neither the inspiration necessary for a pioneer of the genre nor the technical skills necessary for somebody who could bring out its whole potential. It actually took just one move for Hawkwind to get themselves out of this mess - and that was to add their notorious hard-rocking punch. In fact, most of the ugly noises on here sound just like the ugly noises you'd be hearing afterwards; the only difference is, on classic Hawkwind records they're all backed by kick-butt guitar riffage which really elevates the music to 'astral jam' level. In other words, Hawkwind is Hawkwind without one of the two main ingredients, and whoever needs it? Recommended only as a trite historic curiosity exclusively for Hawkwind diehards, as the album doesn't even have any historic importance.
That said, I really really really love the album cover. Beats all those late "stick-it-all-on-top-and-make-one-cover-undistinguishable-from-another" sleeves all to hell. Ever dreamt of being bitten with a two-armed crocodile?

(George Starostin, Rating: * 1/2)