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**Sagittarius - Present Tense**
★★★★☆

In the grand pantheon of psychedelic oddities, few artifacts shine quite as mysteriously as Sagittarius's "Present Tense," a kaleidoscopic fever dream that emerged from the sun-baked studios of 1960s Los Angeles like some beautiful, bewildering transmission from another dimension. This wasn't your typical rock outfit – hell, it wasn't really an outfit at all, but rather the brainchild of producer Gary Usher, a man who'd already left his fingerprints all over the Beach Boys' mythology and was now ready to venture into uncharted sonic territories.

The genesis of "Present Tense" reads like a Hollywood fever dream crossed with a musical laboratory experiment. Usher, flush with the success of his surf rock productions and eager to ride the psychedelic wave that was washing over the West Coast, assembled a rotating cast of session musicians, studio rats, and musical mercenaries. The core revolved around Glen Campbell's pristine guitar work, Curt Boettcher's gossamer vocals, and a constellation of talent that included members of what would later become The Millennium. It was less a band than a beautiful accident waiting to happen.

What emerged was an album that sits comfortably in that sweet spot between sunshine pop and full-blown psychedelic exploration. "Present Tense" captures that particular moment when the innocence of mid-60s pop was beginning to curdle into something more complex and strange. The production is lush without being overwhelming, featuring the kind of studio wizardry that was becoming possible as technology caught up with imagination. Orchestral arrangements dance alongside backwards guitars, while multi-tracked harmonies create walls of sound that Brian Wilson would have envied.

The album's crown jewel, "My World Fell Down," stands as one of the era's most perfectly crafted pop confections. Built around a hypnotic guitar figure that spirals upward like smoke, the song marries melancholy lyrics to an irresistibly buoyant melody. It's the kind of track that sounds effortless but reveals new layers with each listen – the mark of truly great songcraft. Campbell's guitar work here is particularly sublime, weaving in and out of the arrangement with the precision of a master craftsman.

"Another Time" showcases the project's more experimental tendencies, with its backwards vocals and disorienting stereo panning creating a sense of temporal displacement that perfectly matches its title. The song feels like a transmission from some parallel universe where The Beatles never stopped making "Revolver." Meanwhile, "The Truth Is Not Real" pushes further into lysergic territory, its swirling textures and cryptic lyrics capturing the era's fascination with altered consciousness and expanded reality.

The album's quieter moments prove equally compelling. "I'm Not Living Here" strips away the psychedelic flourishes to reveal a gorgeous folk-pop ballad that wouldn't sound out of place on a lost Zombies album. Boettcher's vocals here are particularly affecting, conveying a sense of displacement and longing that resonates decades later.

What makes "Present Tense" particularly fascinating is how it exists in the spaces between genres and scenes. It's too experimental for pure pop, too melodic for the avant-garde, too American for the British Invasion, and too studio-bound for the emerging underground. This liminal quality has both helped and hindered its legacy – while it never achieved the commercial success of more straightforward releases, it's become a holy grail for collectors and a touchstone for musicians interested in the era's more adventurous sounds.

The influence of "Present Tense" can be heard echoing through subsequent decades in the work of everyone from The Flaming Lips to Tame Impala. Its blend of pop craftsmanship and studio experimentation helped establish a template that countless artists have since explored. The album's approach to using the studio as an instrument rather than merely a recording device was particularly prescient.

Today, "Present Tense" stands as both a time capsule and a timeless work of art. It captures a specific moment when popular music was exploding in all directions, when the rules were being rewritten daily, and when a group of talented musicians could disappear into a studio and emerge with something genuinely otherworldly. In an era of increasing musical conservatism, its spirit of fearless experimentation feels more vital than ever. This is essential listening for anyone interested in the roads not taken by popular music.