The Daughters of Albion: The Daughters of Albion
Album #101 - August 1968
Episode date - January 14, 2026
When I started this project, I did so with the intent that I might discover a few things along the way that would broaden my knowledge of, well, how music changed. My personal ambition was to discover music along the way that was unfamiliar but nonetheless fascinating and great enough to be deemed as timeless.
“Daughters of Albion” is the album that has justified this entire experience for me. Two decades of effort, research, close listening, writing and analysis, and I truly believe that this album is the greatest discovery of all my efforts. Before this project, I never knew that this album existed, and in all likelihood, I never would have, but now I have a strangely mysterious and completely obscure album that I want to share with the entire world, because it is easily rates among my all-time favorites.
Without hearing the music, there is absolutely nothing about the album that would make it seem appealing. First and foremost is the band name. “Daughters of Albion” is not a name that induces any level of pop appeal, as it made me think that it would consist solely of ancient English folk songs. Then there’s the cover itself. It is absurdly off-putting, featuring a blurry photo of a shirtless hippie male standing in front of a female leaning against a fence. What sort of folk group is this? The back cover is equally heinous, with nothing but a low-resolution black and white photo of a (female?) face that would have landed fine on a Velvet Underground album. If you were flipping through a record bin in 1968, looking for something new and exciting, you would not have stopped here. If you were at least curious enough to read the song titles, you’d be forgiven to think that the album’s production was so cheap that they misprinted their own song titles: the first song is called “I Love Her and She Loves My”? My what? That’s a misprint, right? This is cheepnis times ten, right?
So, nobody bought it. No radio station touched, and it languished. And languished. It still languishes. I stumbled on it as a matter of coincidental happenstance. While researching Leon Russell’s early days with Marc Benno as the Asylum Choir, I read that Leon did production work for a group called “Daughters of Albion”. As an Asylum Choir fan, I immediately felt it necessary to hear this curious album, so I spent a small fortune to obtain a very old and out of print copy, without really expecting much, but hearing it for the first time blew my mind as if I was hearing “Sgt Pepper,” “Something Else” or “The Who Sell Out” for the first time.
The first thing I learned was that “Daughters of Albion” is/was a duo consisting of Greg Dempsey and Kathy Yesse. The album opens with a humorous bang (“I Love Her and She Loves My” is truly funny and has an awesomely catchy melody and rhythmic structure), and from there, it never lets up. I could write ten pages with details about why each track is so special and magnificent, but to keep this essay within reason, I will simply say that every song here is worthy of your attention. Special kudos to “Yes, Our Love Is Growing”, “Hats Off, Arms Out, Ronnie” and especially “Well Wired”, which should have been among the top hit singles of 1968. But then again, I’d hate to not mention the greatness of “Hey, You, Wait, Stay”, “Still Care About You” and, oh heck, all of them. The capper, though, is the closing number, an agglomeration that manages to touch on Bob Dylan, The Rolling Stones, The Beatles and even the Pope (!) (with sly humor) while adding some astute political observation to a melody that is so strong it will induce goose bumps while making you laugh at the same time.
Can I state it more plainly? In my opinion, “Daughters of Albion” stands proudly as one of the best psychedelic albums that not only withstood the test of time but has transcended it.
Featured Tracks:
I Love Her and She Loves My
Still Care About You
Yes, Our Love Is Growing
Candle Song
Ladyfingers
Sweet Susan Constantine
Hats Off, Arms Out, Ronnie
Good to Have You
Well Wired
Hey, You, Wait, Stay
Story of Sad
1968: John Flip Lockup
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