t’s a little known fact that music existed between the years 1970 and 1976, after the Velvet Underground provided the template for roughly every experimentally minded indie band to date, but before the Sex Pistols did the same for those with equally aggressive, but more straightforward tendencies. The musicians behind this lost form of art explored the raucous power inherent in a drum set, the psychedelic potential behind a well-played guitar, and the borderline cheesy haziness of the era’s keyboards. They didn’t worry that people might consider their music bombastic or over-the-top. And it’s a good thing they didn’t, because any inhibitions would surely have watered down their brilliant, headstrong conceptions.

These musicians comprised legendary bands like Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, and the Who, and the Secret Machines take direct influence from them, unlike most of today’s indie bands, who have all but forgotten that there was a time where drum solos were cool (which, upon second thought, might be a good thing). The Secret Machines first appeared two years ago with their September 000 EP, borrowing from these early-to-mid-70s greats to form a grandiose, arena-rocking sound. It stood as one of 2002’s best releases, consistently stunning and never marred by the reticence of the band’s peers.

Now Here Is Nowhere, the Secret Machines’ full-length debut, expands the sound of September 000, fleshing out many of its ideas on the opener alone. The instrument that bursts forth prominently in the mix, however, is the drums, which recalls John Bonham’s crashing and potent style. Drummer Josh Garza enriches a number of the album’s songs, especially “Sad and Lonely” and “You Are Chains”, the latter of which beautifully emulates Stephen Drozd’s work with the Flaming Lips.

The highlight of the album is “Nowhere Again”, which blends a poppy, 70s FM inspired melody with mid-90s indie rock to form one of the catchiest songs of the year. As with “Marconi’s Radio” on September 000, “Nowhere Again” is reprised at the close of the album with “Now Here is Nowhere”, but this time, the reprise is twice as long as the original, book ending it with a few minutes of studied quietude and climax instead of simply mixing it up into something more fun (as the reprise to “Marconi’s Radio” did). The effect is uncharacteristically tedious, reinforcing the notion that the Secret Machines’ greatest facet is their brave spontaneity. This is one of only a few moments where the album sounds too deliberate, however, so Now Here Is Nowhere stands as a very good album, delivering on most of September 000’s promises and proving that music not only existed in the early and mid 70s, but it rocked too.