Donovan will forever been known as either the Dylan impersonator who was able to achieve a fully unique conception of what a folk singer could become or just as the guy who recorded “Sunshine Superman.” He’s more than that, although, he’s less than the rainmaker that’s been mythologized from his performance constituting Donovan in Concert. If the singer did possess such powers, he probably would have used them over the last few decades to make himself popular again.

Either way, Donovan gets saddled with some import because of his sway over the hippy masses in the UK. His renown didn’t reach the States in tact, although, those electrified rock explorations did a brisk business and weren’t foreign to being included on the charts. Beyond that, and perhaps more important from an artistic standpoint, was the release of A Gift from a Flower to a Garden. Ridiculous title aside, the album is supposed to represent one of the first extended recordings in the pop idiom.

Of course, if the album was slated to send Donovan in a time warp to reclaim his acoustic, folk roots, it failed. Even the purposefully stripped down recordings sported a psych feel the singer couldn’t ditch.

Interestingly, the two albums were split into more electric and less electric albums – the first counting the more rock and roll related material and approximating what T-Rex would do in a few years. And while all of this is going to be of interest to fans, the second disc, intended to revitalize the folk strain of his music, comes off as more indebted to acid culture than the first half of he offering.

Including bird song at the head of “Voyage  Into The Golden Screen” makes the track instantly agreeable. But hearing Donovan eschew that full band for his guitar is a welcome change, tripped out or not. The production on this song – as well as the rest of the album – is a bit odd, with the vocals occasionally significantly higher in the mix than the instrumentation. That particular aspect of the recording might account for the spacey vibe throughout, but just as likely is its lyrical content touching on the moon, tides and any other number of trite ‘60s ideas.

The album, despite it’s inclusion in rock’s march towards purposeful artfulness didn’t result in any hits. “Widow With Shawl (A Portrait)” would wind up on the aforementioned live disc in slightly altered form. But all of this points to the fact that some of music’s lesser appreciated albums from big name players can be the most rewarding.