Fortunately or not Sopwith Camel – who’re completely unrelated to Camel – was prematurely lumped into the San Francisco psych category simply as a result of hailing from the Bay Area. Beyond its point of operation, Sopwith Camel really had more to do with the Flamin’ Groovies’ brand of throw back rock than the exploitative, engorged psych sounds that were swelling up during the mid ‘60s. Having formed at around the same time as every other group that would gain notoriety from the area, Sopwith Camel was actually the second group from the Bay to get a major label record deal – even beating out the Dead. If that wasn’t enough, the band also managed the first chart success from that San Fran cohort of groups. The 1966 single “Hello, Hello” somehow struck a chord with listeners and reached up into the mid-twenties of the charts. It was a one time occurrence for Sopwith Camel, but it also explains the end of the group.

Coming together in ’65, the two principal songwriters – Peter Kraemer and Terry MacNeil – ostensibly shopped around for some guys to back them up. It may not have begun immediately begun as some sort of money making deal, but that’s what it would eventually become. On the heels of that single, the band toured a bit, but failed to capitalize on the situation by not releasing a proper full length until ’67. By ’66 “Hello, Hello” was already detached from what was bubbling up from the psych dungeons across the nation, but an entire album of similarly paced work certainly didn’t get over a full year later. There’s nothing inherently bad about the disc, but considering the fact that the band basically reconvened after a hiatus to record this self titled disc and make a dollar is a little bit beyond reprehensible.

Amidst the even keeled disc is actually a clutch of mildly entertaining songs. There’s a bit of the laid back Kinks’ feel to it all coming in as a lesser beat effort. And really the bass at some points is really the only element here that keeps things from drowning in mediocrity. Of course, some songs do have a bit of the auld San Fran psych tinge to it, but who can say whether or not that was a predilection that the band had or if they each figured it should be included so as to make the disc more digestible to the swelling hippy population of the nation.

“Maybe In A Dream” includes some low key psych elements in addition to some chiming Byrds’ style guitar. But the inclusion of a pervasive and knotty guitar line makes the track something of an oddity within the confines of the disc, but not of the era. Being mostly instrumental probably doesn’t hurt too much either. “Cellophane Woman,” which follows that last track up gives the disc its momentary blues injection and some weirdo guitar work to boot. It seems a bit too little to make this something other than a disc of solely historic interest.