DC Share Revival: Psychedelic Jukebox: [1967] The Chocolate Watchband

In the mid-sixties, the South Bay area of California saw the rise of The Chocolate Watchband, a group whose reputation rested on an uncompromising stage presence that combined raw rhythm and blues with the electric sharpness of British-invasion models. Formed around 1965 in San José and Los Altos, the band quickly became known across Bay Area clubs for its fierce delivery and the charisma of singer David Aguilar. By 1967, however, their debut album No Way Out would become a document both celebrated and contested, not least because of the degree to which producer Ed Cobb reshaped the material during the recording process.

The sessions that produced No Way Out were held in Los Angeles, largely at Richie Podolor’s American Recording studio, a hub known for its efficiency and the reliable craftsmanship of its engineering team. What happened inside those rooms has become a textbook case of sixties record-making, where local groups were drawn into the machinery of Los Angeles production practices. Cobb, who had already written and produced for The Standells, entered the Watchband project with a clear vision of speed and polish. The album was completed on a tight schedule during mid-1967, and much of the finished product was the result of Cobb’s decisions to substitute musicians or re-record vocals when he judged the band’s takes insufficient for radio play.

One of the most striking consequences of this process was the recurring use of Don Bennett, a session vocalist brought in by Cobb to handle lead parts. While some tracks feature Aguilar’s voice, others bear Bennett’s stamp, creating a patchwork quality that puzzled fans who had seen the group on stage. Years later, Aguilar himself expressed frustration at how little the album reflected the live band.

The title track No Way Out is emblematic of this tension. Officially credited to Cobb, it is known to have grown out of a studio warm-up that was then reshaped with effects and editing into a claustrophobic, unsettling piece. Unlike straightforward garage songs of the era, it relies on spoken-word fragments, echo, and abrupt cutoffs to produce an atmosphere of confinement and disorientation. This explains why the track functions less as a conventional song and more as a brief, anxiety-laden soundscape. Its short form, echoing voices and abrupt conclusion make it closer to a psychedelic film cue than to the unpolished fury of the band’s Bay Area shows. This deliberate choice meant that the song, while bearing the band’s name, was largely Cobb’s construction.

Throughout the album, this duality recurs. Side one contains material heavily layered with studio enhancements—additional percussion, harmonica, and manipulated vocals—while side two offers a handful of cuts that hint more clearly at the group’s on-stage power. Critics who revisited the album decades later often pointed out this internal divide. It is precisely this mixture that makes the record so intriguing: a hybrid of a raw Bay Area identity and a Los Angeles producer’s calculated studio assembly. Cobb’s role was expansive, not only overseeing the sessions but also providing original songs and adapting sketches into finished masters. His decisions were shaped by the commercial demand for quick singles, particularly after the group was linked with teen-market films such as The Love-Ins, where the Watchband appeared and contributed the single Are You Gonna Be There (At the Love-In). The B-side to that single was No Way Out.

Behind the console, Richie Podolor and engineer Bill Cooper ensured that the sessions ran smoothly. Podolor’s background with session musicians allowed Cobb to slot in instrumentalists when needed. This meant that on several tracks the instrumental backbone is more L.A. studio crew than Watchband. Such practices were not unusual in Los Angeles at the time, but for the band it meant that their recorded legacy was in tension with their self-image. Aguilar later admitted that the record did not sound like the group people had heard in clubs.

The release history of No Way Out adds another layer of interest. Issued on Tower Records in both mono and stereo in 1967, the LP appeared in several label variations and pressing-plant editions. Collectors note that Scranton pressings, identifiable by distinct matrix stamps, offer a hotter sound compared to later versions.

Later reissues by labels such as Sundazed and Rhino, as well as box sets compiling the group’s complete studio output, have ensured that No Way Out continues to be reassessed. Compilers often highlight the title track and Let’s Talk About Girls—the latter long rumored, with strong evidence, to have been sung by Bennett.

Analyzing the record in detail, it becomes clear that the lyrical and atmospheric qualities of the title track stand apart from the rest. Rather than building a linear tale, the words are fragmented, like pieces of an inner monologue caught in an echo chamber. The speaker’s disembodied tone, layered with reverberation, evokes a sense of entrapment. The theme of having “no way out” becomes not just a lyric but an experiential condition imposed on the listener. This is not accidental: it reflects the producer’s use of studio tools to create an unsettling psychological effect. In contrast to other psychedelic works of 1967, which often leaned on expansive imagery and utopian visions, No Way Out pushes into a territory of menace and confinement, almost as if to remind listeners that altered states can be as threatening as they are liberating.

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Monday, August 25, 2025

Psychedelic Jukebox: [1967] The Chocolate Watchband - No Way Out

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