There are countless music scenes that came and went throughout time and over the span of continents, towns, cities and stop overs that fans just aren’t ever going to be privy to hearing. In some instances, that’s probably for the best seeing as songs, records and bands occasionally languish in obscurity for very good reason. By contrast, there’re a few acts that have senselessly fallen through the cracks for little reason other than its music was being used by some agent, producer or record executive for purely monetary gain.

In the manipulation of talent and the endlessly exploitative nature of the music industry, Demon Fuzz has been relegated to collector’s bins and expensive reissues on vinyl. That being said, hunting down the group’s lone full length is probably worth the effort.

Formed during the late ‘60s and once serving as Wilson Pickett’s backing band on a UK tour, Demon Fuzz, helmed by Paddy Correa – a mover in the London ska scene for a time – went in on a slab of wide ranging funk, soul, rock and other stuffs in a stew of forward thinking music. Occasionally referred to as a prog effort, that particular genre tag seems obtuse. There’s a Screamin’ Jay Hawkins cover for God’s sake. And while that Cleveland based soul shouter might be considered a number of things, progressive probably isn’t one of them.

Regardless, over the album’s six other tracks, the horn heavy band works out some dense tunes with enough of an emphasis on composition as to make jazz fans take note. Leading off the album is a track called “Past, Present and Future,” that actually recalls the main guitar part from the Wipers “D7.” Of course Demon Fuzz isn’t interested in all the downer aspects to that Portland band’s recording and soon shifts from fuzzy psych into a dark soul music that takes solace in its wah-wah guitar. Maintaining that heavy guitar sound, the track’s eventually taken over by some organ figures that tie the track into an American soul-jazz thing. It’s no Root Down, but what Demon Fuzz lacks in jazz chops, the group makes up for in tenacity and consistent rhythmic bounce.

Of course, if the lead off track was the only offering that was of note, no one would be diggin’ for Afreaka! at this point. “Another Country” boasts some vocals as Corea and company get at some heady political insight. There was always an underlying – and sometimes blatant and violent – tension between Brits and its immigrant population. Demon Fuzz doesn’t solve any problems here, but with the song’s shifting sections and tempos what could have come off as a polemic rife with problematic grand standing ends up being an almost Ethio-Jazz track.

All of this might not make Afreaka! the great lost funk album from the other side of the Atlantic, but it is an enticing curio that adroitly marks a time and place. Its cover art might scare away a few potential fans, but there’s something special about the scarcity and difficult entry affixed to this album. Cop it well…