In the early '70s, the India Tobacco Company sponsored an annual "All-India Simla Beat Contest." These events sparked compilations of Indian rock bands, Simla Beat 70 and Simla Beat 71, that have been combined into one package on this double-CD reissue. Very, very little Indian rock from this era has been heard in the West, and the sounds are both surprising and, in some ways, disappointing. Surprising in that it's uncanny how much this sounds like the garage bands that could have been playing in any country, although it actually sounds more like bands from Europe and South America that spoke English as a second language than it does like American or British groups. Surprising, also, in that it sounds much more like 1965-1968 rock than it does like early '70s rock, although that's understandable given that it can take years for Western trends make their impact on the other side of the globe. Disappointing in that, like much reissued obscure garage rock, it's not that great. The playing and singing (in English) is extremely raw for the most part, and there isn't much of an influence that most listeners would identify as Indian. No sitars, certainly, and though there are some ragga-ish droning rave-ups, again these are barely different from what you'd hear done by a band, say, from Holland in 1967. Indeed, the guitar style is often of the furiously staccato, strangled sort heard on some of the wildest early Velvet Underground recordings, although it's doubtful that any of the bands could have been aware of those albums. Sometimes this mines a basic surf, British Invasion, or R&B feel that would be more at home in 1965 than 1970. Often the songs are insubstantial, very basic derivations from those prototypes, usually leaning toward a not-too-melodic, mordant vibe. This is odd stuff, make no mistake about it, but not that odd in the context of the numerous global garage reissues that are now available. Still, there are some neat things to enjoy here, like Hipnotic Eye's crude attack on "Killing Floor" (woefully at-sea guitarist, a recorder solo, and a not-half-bad vocalist) and the Velvette Fogg's wild rendition of "I'm So Glad," introduced by lengthy Asiatic freak-out organ. Those happen to be covers, but most of these cuts are, in fact, originals; the Confusions' "Voice from the Inner Soul" could easily be mistaken for an American sub-Rolling Stones 1965 garage single. The original, intentionally humorous liner notes, in fair but not perfect English, are reprinted on the sleeve, whose track listings incorrectly scramble the song order of the second disc. ~ Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide