I’m almost positive that I purchased the self-titled 1971 LP commonly referred to as III (to distinguish it from their self-titled debut) from San Francisco-based Latin-Rock stalwarts Santana by accident. The way I remember it, I saw the name and title-free cover — with its transparent spaceman grabbing at quasars while a Pegasus-riding barbarian flies over a pack of elephants escaping an atomic mountain — while flipping through stacks at a local flea-market and slid it into my pile of purchases without ever bothering to inspect the record itself.
Admittedly, Satana albums weren’t high up on my “to buy” list at the time, as I was in the throes of a passionate love-affair with breakbeats. So when I got it home and pulled the actual vinyl disc out of its sleeve and saw the band’s name staring back at me from the red Columbia Records label I wasn’t exactly psyched. Besides, it’s not like this was the record with the vintage Fillmore West pen-and-ink roaring-Lion concert-poster artwork and “Evil Ways” on it. Nor is it the album with the freaky Mati Klarwein painted cover of the sexy naked chick surrounded by fruits, vegetables & psychedelic natives that has songs like “Black Magic Woman” and “Oye Como Va” on it.
Be that as it may, it is the last Santana album to feature the band’s original line-up and the last before namesake Carlos Santana started taking detours into the less commercial forms of music that would dominate his output until the overwhelming success of the Pop juggernaut Supernatural in 1999. It was also the first appearance on wax of then 17-year-old guitarist Neil Schon who, alongside original Santana keyboardist/vocalist Greg Rollie, would leave to form the band Journey just two short years late. The Tower of Power horn section contribute to at least one track (the Blood Sweat & Tears-esque “Everybody’s Everything”) and percussionist Coke Escovedo provides input throughout as well.
At its best III is a bubbling cauldron of steamy Afro-Latin flavored Psyche-Rock, with chunks of Funk, Jazz and progressive Pop thrown in… Ladled out as free lunch at some inter-ethnic flower-power gathering for peace, unity, free love and drugs at a ‘Frisco park during the waning years of Hippiedom… Before everybody sold out and our public spaces were given over to crime and (involuntary) poverty. At its worst it’s a precursor to the bombastic but ultimately boring ego-stroking that would be the earmark of virtuoso guitar Rock until this very day.
“No One to Depend On,” a lackadaisical bass-and-organ-driven number with a dreamy intro that chugs along like Sly Stone-gone-Latin before building to a manic wha-wha and fuzz-guitar-solo decorated apex on the bridge, is probably the most recognizable of the album’s songs and one of my favorites. I’m partial to “Taboo,” which transplants bluesy Southern Soul licks a-la Stax Records to post-Summer of Love California, drenching it in screeching guitars, tons of percussion, druggy, self-reflective lyricism and Rock vocals, as well.
The sprightly-but-smoothed-out “Everything’s Coming Our Way,” which reminds me of both the Isley Brothers‘ and Curtis Mayfield’s output during the ’70s musically and a great many falsetto Reggae singers of the era vocally, is another favorite. And album opener “Batuka,” with it’s funky bass groove, layers of guitars, roaring organ and sizzling percussion that puts me in mind of Mandrill jamming with Dennis Coffey, is one of the few instrumentals on the disc that I return to over and over again. The fact that “Batuka” blends right into standout vocal track “No One to Depend On” makes it all the more pleasing, and provides the hook that keeps you listening beyond the first nine-or-so minutes.
In the end, I wasn’t bummed at all to add III to my collection alongside Santana’s debut and their monumental Abraxas, even if I did it unintentionally. It’s a solid release that bridges the Psychadelic sound of ’60s San Francisco and the greasy Funk/Soul sound of the Bay Area during the ’70s and beyond.