Look into the third eye adorned on Get Off My Case’s album cover for a window into the dead end of Houston’s ’60s through the psyche of four longhairs fresh from high school. Conceived in the arid, bone dry air of a Phoenix recording studio and subsequently shelved, Get Off My Case offers a precursory glimpse at early hard-rocking Texans, Josefus. Four tracks from this first session were later re-tracked for their cult-followed LP Dead Man, but the remaining three songs serve as a capsule to their later realized potential.
Get Off My Case exists in the temporal intersection where waning vestiges of hippie optimism meet the terror of emerging reality underlined by the gore of Altamont and Manson. Hints of psychedelic leftovers remain under the enveloping shroud of swampy crunch coaxed out by the sex and scrap of British blues influences.
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