Formed at the University of Detroit in 1967, Index cut one of the most excruciatingly rare psychedelic albums of all time, pressed in an edition of a mere 100 copies. No, it's not worth the $3,000 it lists for in Goldmine's price guide, but it's certainly a nifty, even one-of-a-kind curiosity (and fortunately, it was reissued in the 1980s). A power trio with more or less equal links to the garage and psychedelic eras, Index enhanced their astral aspirations with an unholy amount of reverb drone. One reviewer likened their debut LP, pretty accurately, to sounding as if it had been recorded in a freight elevator. For a psychedelic act, Index's sound was uncommonly morose and minimalistic. They were prone to eerie, repetitious ragas, the reverb giving them a surfing-on-the-moon feel. Their originals were based around modal melodies and mournful, almost Nico-like vocals (although they were entirely male), and they wreaked slow-torture havoc with their drawn-out ragazations of "Eight Miles High," "John Riley," and "You Keep Me Hangin' On." Weirdest of all were their instrumentals, where melody took a distant second to cascading walls of reverb, wah-wah, and shrieking feedback that verged on the avant-garde. Most of the copies of the Index LPs were given away to friends, and the group vanished after the 1960s.
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