Recorded between the demise of his Trinity and the release of the first Oblivion Express album, this previously unreleased live set shines some unexpected light on what Brian Auger was up to in 1970.

Oblivion Express offered the keyboardist now known as the Godfather of Acid Jazz a new direction that was partly suggested by his old bandmate, guitarist John McLaughlin’s “Devotion” album. And if, as Auger has often said, this direction was in danger of leading him into oblivion after pop hits including his classic take on Rick Danko and Bob Dylan’s “This Wheel’s on Fire” with Julie Driscoll, he clearly wasn’t inclined to pursue it gently.

This is the embryonic Oblivion Express with three quarters of the personnel that Auger fans might consider the “first” line-up in place. Jim Mullen is on guitar and Barry Dean on bass guitar alongside Auger and on drums is Keith Bailey, who would soon be replaced by Robbie McIntosh. Bailey maybe doesn’t have quite the directional presence that McIntosh brought to the band, but he does a fine job in a group that combines raw energy and frank, bluesy excitement with tight ensemble arrangements.

For long-time Auger observers this is a fascinating glimpse into how Oblivion Express developed. Four of the nine tunes are holdovers from the final Trinity album, “Befour”. Gabriel Fauré’s “Pavane” is a wild ride indeed, with Mullen taking the melody before tearing into a solo that’s surely more urgent than the piece’s composer could ever have anticipated. “Maiden Voyage” similarly brings more outboard motor than sail power to the Herbie Hancock standard and Sly Stone’s “I Wanna Take You Higher” grooves with startling locomotion. If Eddie Harris’ pulsating “Listen Here” ends a mite abruptly, no matter, as it has already served its purpose as an encore that allows Auger to turn his Hammond organ keyboard into a conga drum as the excitement builds.

Of the five numbers that would appear on the first Oblivion Express album, John McLaughlin’s “Dragon Song” is a particular highlight, its insistent menace inspiring Mullen and Auger to improvise with fire, while “Oblivion Express” – a sort of band manifesto-cum-theme tune – shows that for all the urgency and drive they generated, they also had pacing, light and shade, and compositional shape.

Ahead lay the arrival of the precocious McIntosh, who would meet a cruel, premature and accidental end, and another Scot, Alex Ligertwood, who sang Oblivion Express into a more soul ‘n’ groove-based milieu. This, though, is the blueprint – flammable, fervent, intense, and exhilarating.