‘Eyes of the World’ served as my proper introduction to this marvelous band, and what a fine introduction it was. This tape was a collaboration with Shawn Reed, one of the masterminds behind Wet Hair and the once-was Raccoo-oo-oon. Expectantly, the production is lo-fi, murky, tape recorder-quality, and is quite fitting for this particular sound (even though Shepherds seem to utilize it on every recording). No overdubs or other studio trickery, just unadulterated, droning psych jams caught on magnetic tape, presented in pure form. The presence of Shawn Reed certainly adds a thick layer of droning, moaning psychedelia where needed, and at times gives this tape some characteristics that would not be found again on future Shepherds’ releases. The first song on side A starts out with some strange, muffled guitar strums and plucks, eventually building as more things come into the mix such as drums and a bunch of unidentified No-Neck Blues Band-type sounds. In fact, the whole song kind of retains somewhat of a NNCK-type feeling throughout, but more akin to their noisier stuff (the 8” lathes in particular). The second song on side A is much more sparse and drone-oriented then the first. Low-pitched, processed moans pop up throughout the song with plenty of delay slapped on them, while other string instruments are plucked and strummed in an atonal yet psychedelic manner. When combined, a thick cloud of purplish, grayish fog forms around my speakers while the occasional pulse of hand drums makes its way up to the surface, causing the fog to dissipate but reform as soon as they vanish. Side A ends with the third song, a 3-minute swelling barrage of recorders, Casios, guitars, and bells. Good stuff. Side B is where this release really shines. It’s one long jam, and is by far one of the wildest pieces this band has ever done. I can’t think of anything else from them that gives me as much of a sense of “whatthefuckisthis?” as side B of this tape. It basically has all the elements present on side A, but instead of being presented in (relatively) easily digestible segments as they were there, everything is mishmashed into one big melting pot of psychedelic fury and confusion in a manner that only the masters such as Shepherds and Shawn Reed could concoct. Masterful, avant-psych put out by a label that seems to do no wrong. Hunt this fucker down.