The history of electronic music slowly inculcating more popular and radio ready sounds has its start a long time off in the distant past. During the twenties there were experiments with process that would result, years later, in any number of divergent compositional and musical ideas. But it was with the Moog Synthesizer that rock music in the States would become most engaged with.

Of course, Sun Ra was using electric keyboards prior to most rock oriented performers, it actually took a former member of the Weavers, a vanilla folk group, to introduce the synthesizer to everyone from Bay Area players to George Harrison.

As is the case with a number of musical developments during the sixties, though, the introduction of this instrument can be traced to a festival. In 1966 at the Monterey Pop Festival, Paul Beaver and Bernie Krause, the latter being the reformed folkster, set up a booth to display their new toy. Any number of prominent performers may have run into the instrument during that festival. Even if that wasn’t the case, though, Beaver had recorded with the Monkees during the same year and used the moog. That might not have been the most auspicious beginning, but proper records from Beaver and Krause would follow shortly.

In 1968 The Nonesuch Guide to Electronic Music was issued, but only hinted at the fact that the duo would in just a few years count everyone from blooze guitarist Mike Bloomfield to soundtrack man Bud Shank as collaborators. In the intervening time, though, Beaver and Krause would work up what more than a few folks believe to be the pair’s most important recrording.

Perhaps belying the music it holds within, the cover of 1969’s Ragnarök and subtitled “Electronic Funk,” sports the picture of some wide eyed child. Yeah, the kid looks kinda stoned for some reason and the beige or light brown coloration of the sleeve makes it all seem like another late decade, optimistic folk album. But it’s not.

Making it  through a few of the almost normal sounding early album tracks, listeners, when arriving at “3rd Stanza Of A Hymn To Sancho Panza” will be greeted by sounds perhaps not heard before. Certainly, Devo fans can place those weird noises. But the tunefulness with which the Moog is plied here should astound even the most fervent experimental music folks. There’re a few more sedate numbers here and there over the rest of the disc, but nothing so immediately engaging. Maybe it’s difficult for electronic music to grab some listeners, but this should do the trick pretty quickly.