Where the Pyramid Meets the Eye: A Tribute to Roky Erickson

When this compilation was released in 1990, Roky Erikson was less of a household name than at least half of the artists who appear on this tribute to his creative work with 13th Floor Elevators and in his solo career. But all you need to know about how far his influence actually carries is that Where the Pyramid Meets the Eye is bookended by covers of the Elevators’ “Reverberation (Doubt)” by blues-rock greats ZZ Top in synth-boogie mode and The Jesus and Mary Chain oscillating through outbursts of feedback. The lineup of Pyramid, a comp assembled by Sire’s Bill Bentley to benefit Erickson during a tough stretch of legal trouble, is a curious sprawl of alt-rockers and roots rockers, some of whom are loosely united in their Texas home turf — which is how you get Butthole Surfers dousing proto-grunge in windowpane acid on “Earthquake” and T-Bone Burnett recasting “Nothing In Return” as an old-time rocker worthy of Buddy Holly. Erickson’s vision of psychedelia was a versatile one, expanding far beyond the bounds of Summer of Love frivolity and hippie caricature to confront the more disconcerting outer reaches. And while that eeriness isn’t always obvious in the guise of, say, baggy Madchester dance-rock (Primal Scream’s “Slip Inside This House”) or hi-gloss country-AOR (Southern Pacific’s “It’s a Cold Night for Alligators”), it’s never far from the surface. In the case of Thin White Rope’s desert-psych blow-up of “Burn the Flames,” it’s practically the stuff of high melodrama. R.E.M.’s double-dip is a bit closer to a more nuanced trip into his spirit, boasting a jangly “I Walked with a Zombie” and an incognito Blue Öyster Cult-caliber rockout “Bermuda” (recorded under the alias Vibrating Egg with manager Jefferson Holt on guest vocals). Take note that two of the best cuts come from fellow Austinites: Doug Sahm and Sons’ “You’re Gonna Miss Me,” which ramps up the guitars but still finds room for the original Elevators’ jug-hooting, and Lou Ann Barton’s “Don’t Slander Me,” a blues-rock rebel-rouser delivered with a sneer and a straight razor.