ah it’s not one of the original grail of two hundred.  it is however heavyheavy hundred eighty gram vinyl.  does look like the original, with the die-cut sleeve and blood red cellophane window.  ltd edition and numbered, just without the bastard ebay price tag.

if you know anything about this record you probably know the resemblance to the doors, morrison in particular.  not an unexact comparison to be fair. but there’s a distinct kindof garage punk thuggishness to the acid psyche. certainly less poppier and jazz inflected than the output of densmore, krieger, manzarek and morrison.  in fact it’s probably not inappropriate (ach it probably is entirely inappropriate but anyway) to draw some sketchy tenuous line from the west coast los angelesian psychedelia to the fucked and addled monstrosity of the detroit stooges and mc5 damaged rock.  bugger it, i’ll place moon blood somewhere between the two. somewhere in kansas (toto) if i consult my giant drinks cabinet cum world globe.
anyway…

it’s a beautifully muzzy hard rock, stumbling stoned yet angry from yr speakers.  jim beachs’ vocals whilst morrisonesque (not sure of the timelines of which jim came onto the scene first) at times are also a damn sight harsher, more howlin’ wolf than john lee hooker.  the guitars and drums for sure are a suitable bludgeoning companion to the existential angst.

lyrically it’s where some lysergic bible of semi-religious ergotism, christian redemption and physical/psychological stoned destruction meet.  see the exorcismic plea of ‘come out of her’…

i defy you to be her breathless moments plea / to bathe beneath the arrow of her knee / come and join in the kill

they look bad-ass (motorhead meets easy rider chic).

they sound bad-ass (see above).

a fucking essential record (essentially).