Being half crazed and drugged to the gills didn’t inhibit Glenn Schwartz from briefly becoming one of the most lauded guitarists of the ‘60s. Yep, only briefly though. Subsequent to leaving the James Gang, which also included a pre-Eagles Joe Walsh, Schwartz high tailed it to Los Angeles. After arriving, and most likely appreciating the fact that any substance that could be mentioned was available, the guitarist joined up with a retooled group named Bluesberry Jam that had just rechristened itself Pacific Gas & Electric. Despite that lame name, not that the previous moniker was any better, PG&E went on to impact the blues, rock and psych scene over there on the west coast during the latter portion of the ‘60s and even into the ‘70s.

Moving in similar circles as Canned Heat – who actually had its drummer sniped by Bluesberry Jam – as well as the MC5 (kinda), PG&E were able to rave up a blues tune into something beyond any perceived limitations of the genre. There’s a reason that the band isn’t any longer famous, but on its opening salvo, the 1968 Get It On, there aren’t too many blemishes to be recalled. But as a result of being in a glutted sub genre of rock, there was a great deal of competition to contend with and that didn’t work to the advantage of the group.

Mentioning Canned Heat, who possessed one of the stronger, white blues shouters in the Owl, PG&E sported Charlie Allen, a one time drummer. Possessing the chops that he did, the band pushed him out front – and to good effect. He might not have been the most stirring performer, but he easily ranks up there.

Making up the group’s first album were a spate of rather conventional blues cops. There aren’t any instances of the band stepping out of line with trends current at the time, but the guitar playing of Schwartz easily made the band noticeable if not notable. Opening with “Wade in the Water” seems an odd choice – and a weird coincidence considering Schwartz’ later conversion – mostly due to the fact that the Chambers Brothers pretty much own that song amongst ‘60s rock bands.

Moving through the rest of that first album, “Motor City Burning,” again, appears as an odd choice for a group located on the west coast. Compounding that, the fact that the MC5 so completely destroyed that song’s ability to be covered again in the future makes the version here – even with Schwartz – a bit of a let down. Getting back to the Canned Heat references, PG&E go in on “The Hunter,” a unique version of the song, but again subservient to the offering versioned by the Owl and company.

This might all seem negative, but it’s not. PG&E simply had a bit too much competition. They showed up too late in the game and unloosed enough tracks that would have been familiar to its potential fan base as to affectively make itself irrelevant. That, however, doesn’t mean that this disc or Schwartz should be ignored.