Released: 1968; Columbia
The Millennium is:
Curt Boettcher
Mike Fennelly
Joey Stec
Sandy Salisbury
Doug Rhodes
Lee Mallory
Ron Edgar
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The Millennium’s
Begin is a one-off, a late psychedelic sixties collaboration gathering several pop journeymen led by one of the most obscured masterminds of the era, Curt Boettcher. A demanding and visionary pop maestro in the vein of Brian Wilson, Boettcher’s mark on pop music is etched in stone. His staggering work in the Californian sunshine-pop scene touched many bands that came from the region and led to his eventual partnership with the aforementioned Wilson. However, it is with The Millennium that Boettcher’s legacy rests.
Begin, part of rock and roll’s great tapestry of unsung commercial failures, is a prime example of exceptional 60's pop.
It’s unfair to give all credit to Boettcher. His vision wouldn’t last a second if not complemented with an astute squad of musicians backing him up. This is the nature of
Begin: Boettcher only holds six writing credits on the album, three of them shared with collaborators. The songs Boettcher does have a hand in, however, are among the album’s finest cuts.
“I Just Want To Be Your Friend” cooks up perfect sunshine pop melodies, fries them in sea of bossa nova, and salts it with a bluesy bridge for good measure. Lee Mallory’s song writing and Boettcher’s fascination with psychedelics produce the extra-terrestrial “Karmic Dream Sequence #1.” The track progresses from desperate searching to ebullient wonder before collapsing into an koto-infused kraut rock freak out. “The Know It All” is another slice of psychedelia but this time, less dreamy. Think The Kinks’ “Wicked Annabella” meets Love’s “Maybe the People Would Be the Times or Between Clark and Hilldale” with weaker song writing and a garage rock slant.
The strongest pop songs on
Begin are comparable to any of the masterworks of the same time frame. The Zombies, The Beach Boys, The Beatles, The Kinks... anything these bands produced would have a tough time going up against some of the pop visions of The Millennium. Mallory’s “Sing to Me” recalls classic Stax blue eyed-soul, jumping with horns and vibes. “There Is Nothing More To Say,” on the other hand, is sublime vocal pop, a cut that sounds like a missing 15th
Revolver track. The influences that manifest themselves on
Begin prove to be atypical fare, recalling all sorts of entries from the pop landscape.
More than anything,
Begin is an incredibly tight and immaculate presentation. This is where Boettcher deserves most praise along with assisting producer, Keith Olsen. The clarity of
Begin is spectacular, as first understood by “Prelude.” The instrumental opener hammers off an awesome beat, each sound, crystal clear as it flows into “To Claudia On Thursday.” Each track, and as a result, the entire album, sounds like a cohesive team effort. This is a remarkable feat considering the band as a whole existed for a little around a year.
As a complete album statement,
Begin competes with any sixties classic. Track by track, it’s a bit tougher for the work to hold up. The Millennium’s roots are firmly grounded in Californian soft pop and many tracks are incapable of delivering the same punch many other artists were capable of. It should be assumed that none of The Millennium’s song writers can really compare to Lennon, McCartney, Davies or Wilson. But with those hinderances in mind, The Millennium’s
Begin remains a significant collection of pop songs and is required listening for fans of the period.
