This album is for the mighty osurec who has laboured so amazingly to unearth lost treasures from the north american continent of 30-40 years ago with the archaeological skills of a trojan Schliemann in the gold vinyl racket, time and again chiseling out lost species of dinosaurs out of the badlands for exhibit online.
As one who has gorged myself at his trough like a hippo at a mud-bathing watering hole swatting away the flies of real life at the apex of hours of prog fulfillment and satiation I think it's important to acknowledge his incredibly generous services.
This is another private-pressed american record, lost without a trace seemingly in the sands of time, of the jazz-rock genus. A type as common in those days as the trilobites in the paleozoic and apparently as outdated. Similar to Esagono Vicolo in the ingeniousness of some chord changes, patterns, and the mix of rock and jazz.
Check out the beautiful drawing on the cover.