I think that it hit 80 degrees today. And while summer official began a while ago – I believe – today seems like the first day of it. With that comes more bike rides, escaping what four walls slam my face in as I stare at a screen droning out precocious music insights that may or may not matter at the end of time, whenever that is. On those bike rides, though, I need something to sing to. I can’t explain why exactly, but long bus rides or road trips call for extended jazz workouts while bicycles call for pop to push my lungs to not only move the blood around as I traverse flat land and hills, but also to belt out a few songs. And for that very reason, the Blues Magoos got a (digital) spin today as I did some errands.

The succinct pop tracks – the band’s extended fair push the four minute mark – are able to encompass the best of the ‘60s radio smashes as well as some of the decades more palatable psych embellishments. The Magoos, who were included on the Nuggets compilation with its rendition of “Tobacco Road,” aren’t a one trick pony as so many of those groups turned out to be. And while getting through most albums associated with the dusty artifacts represented on the indispensible psych collection is difficult, a full listening of Psychedelic Lollipop is not only pleasurable, but necessary. There’s actually only one offering that might qualify as mediocre.

“Loved Seems Doomed,” which after getting a minute into or so features a bit of interesting studio trickery, is easily the low point of the disc. But even here, as the Magoos kinda ape the Doors, the syrupy waltz the serves as the bridge to a ‘psych’ experiment might sound dated, but oddly entertaining.

With the band’s name, it should be expected to traffic in some pretty basic ‘60s blues knock offs – it does. And by the time that the disc gets to “Worried Life Blues,” the band has run through a few different variations on the style. But even on this cover, the persistent organ does more than enough to create some floating back drop for that slight and melodic guitar solo. No missteps, friends. None. The track listing is basically a listing of classics from “Gotta Get Away” to “One by One” and on down the line. It might only clock in at thirty some minutes, but each of those is pleasurable.

After the decent success that this disc afforded the New York band, this line up recorded a few more albums – each on a different label oddly enough – with an increasing jazzy feel. These latter offerings seem a bit more difficult to hunt down. But by the end of the ‘60s some variant on the original Magoos had reached its pinnacle and started headed downwards. The group’s last disc, a 1970 album called Gulf Coast Bound, signaled the end. Considering their brethren, a number of them at least, couldn’t record one good disc, the quality inherent in the career of the Magoos is pretty remarkable.