Bound as he is to producer Mickie Most, who's good when he's interested and unthinkably horrid when he's not, as is obviously the case here, it's surprising that Terry Reid continues to even try to record and almost startling that he can come up with so good an album as this.

Were it not for his excellence as a songwriter, which not even Most at his least interested can completely obscure, this second Reid offering would be notable only for its awe-inspiringly shoddy engineering and altogether wretched mix. (That is, if it even was mixed: it sounds very much as if it were recorded live on one track. And a guitar-organ-drums lineup like the Reid group's simply doesn't project a full enough background sound without far more over-dubbing than is in evidence here. But presumably Most couldn't be troubled.)

Reid has a large helping of musical maturation ahead of him before he gains sufficient control of his sometimes-fiery freak voice (a cross between Steve Marriott's and Janis Joplin's, with maybe a dash of Robert Plant as well, if you can imagine that) to become a really effective rock shrieker. He presently has the unhappy habit of scat-howling/rasping his own wonderful melodies into submission, and, while singularly incendiary on nearly any individual cut, is little fun to listen to at length.

"Stay With Me Baby" aside, little of note happens on side one, with the exception of uniformly muddled production all but spoiling "Superlungs" (by D. Leitch), and two good originals, "Marking Time" and "Silver White Light." Struggling to stay on top of Peter Shelley's keyboard bass, which threatens to drown him out, and lacking the extraordinary range and force necessary on such a blaster, Reid nevertheless succeeds in infusing a good deal of passion into "Stay With Me," Lorraine Ellison's show-stopper (which, incidentally, is here credited to members of Savoy Brown despite being written by Jerry Ragovoy and a collaborator).

Most really shines at the beginning of side two, where he brilliantly fades Reid's "Friends" in between hunks of "Highway 61 Revisited." Marvelous, Mickie, marvelous. Reid himself does a most noteworthy job with the Dylan tune, which is tailor-made for his scat-singing capabilities.

The real highlight of the album is "Speak Now Or Forever Hold Your Peace," a great rock and roller by Reid with a driving beat that pulls you from your chair and a tune that you won't get out of your head for hours. And, wow, even background vocals (Reid over-dubbed)!

In short, if you can endure the worst production job of the year and Terry's occasional vocal excesses, you'll want this album for its great originals and "Highway 61." Otherwise, you'd be best to wait for decently-recorded versions by other super-stars and for Terry to find a producer who gives a fuck. (RS 46)

JOHN MENDELSOHN