Sparse information is to be found in the database. Of course this was requested earlier due to the lone sample that can be found on youtube. (Which appeared once on a compilation CD). Overall, typical American light style vocal fusion along the lines of Feather's Chen Yu posted long ago, perhaps slightly better written in terms of composition, and more in the progressive direction of female vocalist-led Grits, of Rare Birds fame. The verso scan has all the information missing from the discogs entry, as you can see.
The band is from Indianapolis, Indiana, apparently, the singer is Joan E. Hall (who contributed the great A2 track), percussion by Ron Brinson, songwriting duties jointly Wayne Hall (bassist, woodwinds, ocarina, and voice) and Brian E. Paulson (keyboardist). Hall wrote the youtube track, Bumpum Cars, which you can hear above by following the link.
Of note, Brian Paulson appears to be the same musician who was in the great unreleased band Pre, information extensively recorded here. (American progressive rock band active 1972-1973, who recorded an album's worth of material at the time but only saw its first release in 1992.)
And Pre had some fantastic classic progressive rock songs in their sole release, which is highly recommended. He seems to have mellowed out on this record however, contributing the first 2 tracks on the second side which were somewhat disappointing.
Joan Hall's track is called Mysteries Eyes [sic]:
The chord changes and the oddness of the melody are what make this song so memorable, as well as the passion she brings to her vocal treatment. I love the production heavy on different keyboards too.
Inside you can also find printed the following silly story from the band that begins:
The legend of Hugo Smooth (or one theory)
In the 14th century Hungarian Village of Browbeat lived a simple man named Garbonzo Quick. He lived alone on a vast hill overlooking a grove of juniper trees, at least a thousand years old, and inhabited by monks of a fourth dimension and only visible to Garbonzo. The locals paid no attention to the stories about dancing monks chanting in the night and let Garbonzo sit harmlessly on the hill telling his tale and playing a small wooden flute that no one could hear...
From then on the story becomes both ridiculous and utterly bizarre in a way that only presumably drug-influenced stories really can be. I'm reminded of my wife's usual comment: They were all on drugs back then...
Thanks to the commentator who suggested this one.