It is said that before they became a rock and roll band. Black Oak Arkansas were a teenage gang the mere mention of whose name struck terror in the hearts of all who had encountered them. It is said that a tar-and-feathers welcome awaits them in the town after which they are named.

Mine eyes have beheld them inspiring hundreds of chubby UCLA coeds, normally more attuned to Joni Mitchell, to smoke marijuana reefers openly, strip to the waist, and frolic shamelessly in the mud in front of the stage. (There is almost always mud in front of Black Oak's stage, owing to how sloppily lead-singer Jim Mangrum guzzles cheap wine from economy-sized jugs.)

Lead-singer Jim Mangrum is unremittingly obnoxious on-stage. He introduces songs by reproducing the sounds of tumultuous orgasm, is fond of shaking his ass in little girls' faces, perpetually wears a demented wide-eyed smirk, and chews gum insolently. Cocky, randy, and gross beyond exaggeration, he gets away with it all because he's very beautiful, with luxurious chest-length golden hair and delicate features.

The rest of the band are not beautiful at all, being right-wing political cartoonist's vision of hippie in matted 1966-Seeds hair and sweat-stained denim. All except rhythm-guitarist Rickie Reynolds, who looks to be more into downers, give the impression of being very familiar with the joys of amphetamines.

As if you haven't guessed. I think Black Oak Arkansas are one fantastic rock and roll band, an opinion I'm confident those with an car for raunch and an eye for outrage will share after overcoming their initial instinctive revulsion and getting into the group's album, especially side two.

Whatsa matter with side one (with the exception of the Sly-ish driving funk and grease of "I Could Love You"), see, is that Mangrum's voice blows the whole scene when it's applied to quite pretty steel-dominated bluegrass-flavored stuff reminiscent of the best of the Byrds' recent work, his voice, if I've failed to describe it, being an incredibly sinister cross between those of Wolfman Jack and Captain Beefheart that makes John Kay sound like Glen Campbell in comparison.

On side two it's consistently a treat of epic proportions. You'll seldom encounter anything more unforgettable than the Black Oak version of "Singing The Blues," in which the juxtaposition of Mangrum's randy malevolence and dog-earred country kitsch works altogether magnificently his growling of "oom-bah oom-bah oom-bah" over the second turnaround makes for the most exciting rock and roll moment I've encountered on record in 1971.

And when he's in his natural clement, as on "Hot And Nasty," 2.55 of devastatingly gross sexual bravado that more than live up to their title, there's simply no resisting his doing your brains in.

Also on side two is "Lord Have Mercy On My Soul," a fabulously raunchy affair with definite echoes of early Steppenwolf and splendid production (note the phasing of the multi-tracked chorus). At the end of the hilarious organ-backed soliloquy that introduces the song we hear one of the lads pissing into a bucket.

Obviously these guys know what rock and roll is all about, an impression that is reinforced by the following cut. "Electricity Comes To Arkansas," a rousing and rowdy rave whose grooves virtually ooze $1.98-a-gallon chablis.

With just a little coaching Black Oak Arkansas could become the coaching Black

Oak Arkansas could become the new Rolling Stones. Really! (RS 83)

JOHN MENDELSOHN