Psychedelia, p.60
Psychedelia, page 60
A related discussion which appears even more pointless today is the separation of 'mainstream' or 'square' groups from 'underground' or 'hip' groups. This dichotomy cut right through the music scene in the late 1960s and left profound traces in fanzines and rock magazines well into the '70s, yet in retrospect much of it seems to be simple cases of prejudice and snobbery. A band like Strawberry Alarmclock are today considered a terrific exponent of melodic Southern California psych, but it took them thirty years to shake off an inaccurate 'bubblegum' label attached to them by an uninformed but 'hip' underground. A talented band like the Blues Magoos were considered cutting edge in January 1967 (when Mojo Navigator interviewed them), but six months later they had been dismissed as 'Top 40' teeny-boppers, and their career never recovered. The Doors, on the other hand, evolved along a similar trajectory as the Blues Magoos, but thanks perhaps to the shrewdness of their label they received the necessary seal of approval from the vox populi of the underground, even though they had a #1 hit single that even Aunt Jessie liked; thus, the Doors thrived.
Perhaps the ideal poster child for these hopeless distinctions are the West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, a group of fresh-faced surfers brought to Frank Sinatra's Reprise label under the bizarre aegis of a thirty-something millionaire lawyer who claimed that 'only freaks know all the answers' and somehow went on to prove it with three classic psychedelic LPs. Here, the line between zeitgeist Psychedelia and pure lysergic inspiration is as impossible to draw as that between square and hip, yet the timeless quality of their music transcends all dualisms in true psychedelic fashion. As illustrative, but less entertaining, was the notorious Lovin' Spoonful 'snitch' affair, where one of the Spoonful's leading members was revealed as a police informant in a marijuana case. The fact that he was coerced into this deal due to his own legal problems meant little: from that day the once-loved Spoonful were persona non grata within the freak underground, and their career took an abrupt nosedive. Today, few people can be bothered to subject music to judgment via guilt-by- association, and those Lovin' Spoonful 45s sound as good as they always did. Conversely, some bands considered hip by the psychedelic underground at the time do not appear to gather many fans today; the Electric Flag and Big Brother & The Holding Company seem to be leading examples.
3
An earlier chapter examined the prototype Psychedelia found within the avant-garde Electronica and jazz-combo Exotica from the 1950s, highlighting certain attributes to explain why some such recordings seem psychedelic today. Primary among these traits is a strong cinematic quality which speaks to the visual imagination of the individual and instills vivid pictures of another place or time. The psychedelic music track encourages you to visit the place it evokes, and in its depiction it uses sonic tools that facilitate the transition to the visualized place; eerie electronic noises, exotic bird- calls, effects like phasing or backwards masking, and alien wordless vocals. Whether a South Sea atoll or the distant Planet X, this other realm will consequently allow for a human presence in its musical otherworldliness, offering the visiting spectator the possibility to become a fully present participant. While the basic tone is often one of upbeat exploration, the mood is complex in its blend of awe, curiosity, longing, and maybe some fear. Within Psychedelia, a rich atmosphere (or 'vibe') is a more vital ingredient than precision of logic or detail. These characteristics can be drawn from a broad exposure to recordings that precede the modern psychedelic era in their creation, yet have been found effective in the higher mind-state. Such prototypical, 'accidental' trip recordings from the 1950s usually emerged out of a creative zone where avant/underground music interacted with pop culture forms. A similar fertile breeding ground lay at the epicenter of the psychedelic rock music that began to take form in the mid-1960s.
Nevertheless, as one enters the psychedelic rock era, some crucial developments have taken place that render the Electronica/Exotica-based definitions incomplete. The stylistic platform is now pop/rock music rather than jazz or avant-garde, with all the differences this entails. Furthermore, the Psychedelia of the mid-late '60s is no longer 'prototypical' but actual; the musicians are, or could be, using psychedelic drugs. With the wide availability of street LSD from 1965 onwards, a new type of creative loop emerged between artist and audience, with hallucinogenic drugs the enzyme. As the modern psych band Spacemen 3 put it, bands were 'taking drugs to make music to take drugs to'. This was a new phenomena within pop culture, perhaps new to Western culture in general. In cases such as the aforementioned 13th Floor Elevators, the late '60s Grateful Dead and certain German '70s bands, this circular relationship lies open for anyone to see and enter.
This class of music, which could be called pure Psychedelia, offers instances of recordings that fit perfectly into the criteria of the preceding paragraphs. The Dead's 'Dark Star' (Live/Dead, 1969) as an example, could be described as 'a cinematic experience that encourages you to partake in a space journey, complex in mood and rich in atmosphere', thereby employing all five characteristics given above. The thoroughly psychedelic Cauldron album by 50 Foot Hose (1968) does not anchor its hallucinatory sounds in a specific locus, yet it is so skilled in its portrayal of alien states of mind that it becomes equally transporting, most of all so on the epic centerpiece 'Fantasies' with its deeply ambivalent moods of exploration and sorrow. Sounding somewhat like Cauldron compressed into a 7" single, the "Forest Of Black" 45 by Dirty Filthy Mud (c1967) forms another hyper-lysergic East Bay outburst, this time from an obscure group of self-confessed Elevators and C J & Fish fans. However, and alas, these cases of pure Psychedelia are by no means the dominant form of psyche- delic rock music; on the contrary, they could be considered an exclusive subset.
In that tumultuous era, as acidhead musicians directed their creativity towards reflecting their psychedelic experiences, the looming threat and occasional reality of dark, terrifying drug trips unavoidably came to influence the music. Thus, the slight undercurrent of fearful, ominous moods heard in some '50s Electronica and Exotica is brought much more to the center by the '60s psychedelic rock bands. An interesting, remarkably successful example is C A Quintet's 1969 album Trip Thru Hell, a psychedelic concept work that matches the criteria of pure Psychedelia well, yet emphasizes fear and terror in a way not heard in the '50s prototypes. In an interview with the author, C A Quintet's leader Ken Erwin cited influences from modernist classical such as Stravinsky and Bartok, suggesting a source for the dark intensity of the album that contrasts markedly with the smooth French impressionism underlying '50s Exotica. Similar modernist influences with ominous undertones can be found on Puzzle by Philadelphia's Mandrake Memorial, another late '60s album that conforms well to the idea of pure Psychedelia, including highly cinematic instrumental passages. The musically less sophisticated Boss-Town Avatars Ultimate Spinach and Beacon St Union were both distinctly oriented towards dark, negative mind states. Exemplifying a trip in time rather than space, the Grateful Dead's friendly rivals Quicksilver Messenger Service twisted their trademark dual guitar interplay into the visual peak experience of 'Calvary' (Happy Trails, 1969) and its suitably ambiguous emotional maelstrom.
While not outright 'bad trip' testimonies, complex psych works like these recognize a broader spectrum of emotion than most other forms of 1950s-60s music, projecting an ambivalence of mood that is central to the psychedelic enterprise. At the same time, such elaborate streaks of cerebral darkness run the risk of subverting the inviting, humane quality of the music which the '50s prototypes had shown to be a vital element to lysergic enjoyment. What was initially called art rock evolved as an intellectualized form of Psychedelia, and the loss of emotional warmth can be observed in an album such as Freeborne's Peak Impressions (1968). The early works of Pink Floyd present another useful indication of the difficulties involved. While fulfilling the basic qualities of Psychedelia, Floyd's recurring depictions of space travel seem to lack the inviting human presence found in old Space Exotica records or 'Dark Star', and they deprive the listener of a crucial step towards his or her full immersion in the experience. Instead, Pink Floyd's music finds its most effectively psychedelic form on tracks in which the human element is clearly pronounced, such as 'Matilda Mother' or 'Julia Dream'. While still an enjoyable and quite influential album, A Saucerful Of Secrets in particular fails to produce the visual-emotional effect of space travel that could have turned it into a powerful psychedelic experience. A contemporary of Pink Floyd later expressed his regrets about the local London interpretation of acid rock:
The Floyd sang about Neptune and Titan, and setting the controls for the heart of the sun, but all was not science fiction, and I often regretted that the Floyd assumed such a crucially influential role in the London version of Psychedelia. They seemed so Oxbridge cold in their merciless cosmos: the Stephen Hawkings of rock & roll. They lacked the Earth-warmth of, say, the Grateful Dead, and things might have been a whole lot different if their sound hadn't permeated so many of those formative London nights.
(Mick Farren)
Pink Floyd were not alone in this; the British late '60s bands in general seemed ill at ease with the ambiguous panta rei message of Psychedelia, and except for the pioneering cases of the Beatles and Donovan, the resulting works were often dark and introspective, rather than bright and inviting. Cream's Disraeli Gears (1967) came in a striking color cover and contained outstanding psych tracks like 'Tales Of Brave Ulysses', yet its dominating lyrical message is almost pathologically negative. The Pretty Things championed their first forays into Psychedelia with two brilliant 45s loaded with upbeat surrealism, but their trips soon darkened into the full-length depression of S F Sorrow (1968). Traffic toyed around with light-hearted psych in their early days but abandoned it for a somber, controlled, and decidedly non-psychedelic direction. The Rolling Stones found a dark, feverish world lurking behind their first few happy stabs at Psychedelia, and ended up producing Their Satanic Majesty's Request (1967), one of the best 'bad trip' albums ever made, predictably maligned among Stones fans. Leading bands like the Kinks and the Who made a few requisite psychedelic gestures but clearly found the idea of 'acid music' removed from their basic nature.
Much like in America, there was a shortlived but massive trend-shift towards Psychedelia among Britain's second-tier bands, producing works that were often quite enjoyable even if their foundation in genuine LSD experiences was dubious or non-existent. A number of urban mod/r'n'b club bands expanded their repertoire with modal chords and surreal lyrics to stay in tune with the times, including Skip Bifferty, Art, the Creation, the later-day Small Faces, and many others. The other leading lineage in mid-'60s English rock music, the melodic beat of the pre-acid Beatles and the Hollies, found itself mutated by the zeitgeist into delivering a brood of excellent, upbeat, psych- flavored records by bands such as Kaleidoscope (Tangerine Dream, 1967), Tomorrow (1968), July (1968), and even the Hollies themselves (Butterfly, 1967). As in the case of their club band colleagues, the pre-psychedelic roots are still clearly audible in these albums, embellished with pseudo-lysergic ornaments, fairytale whimsicality, and studio tricks borrowed from Sgt Pepper and The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn.
Within the true British underground it is difficult to find examples of pure Psychedelia, and it seems somehow typical that one of the UK's most dazzling examples of late '60s psych remained unknown until the 1990s; the unreleased Axe/Crystalline acetate (first released 1992). For the most part, the underground bands seem almost eager to get away from the warm spiritual acidhead message that American artists like Jimi Hendrix promoted. The Deviants with the aforementioned Mick Farren certainly lived up to the image of 'underground', but their records do not contain much genuine Psychedelia. A band such as Soft Machine were around already in '66, but beyond their freaky debut 45 they remain best understood as a proto-progressive art rock outfit. The much-loved Mighty Baby form one exception, even more so since they deepened the spiritual-psychedelic nature of their music as they evolved, and were joined by the fine Help Yourself in waving the West Coast 'music as a lifestyle' freak flag.
From the underground's darker recesses arose Arzachel's sole album (1969) which seems to emanate from a genuinely psychedelic position, inscrutable as it is. Another multi-layered experience is offered by Pussy Plays (1969), which over time reveals a psychedelic complexity beyond its initial impression of Floydian mod-pop. Beyond these specific cases, a rich and highly active music scene like England's will always contain exceptions to any rule, and in the search for UK Psychedelia one will happily stumble upon the half-buried treasure chest of obscure major label 45s by groups like Wimple Winch, Factory, Fleur De Lys, Kult, The Game and a few dozen others. Alas, these memorable recordings weRenét really discovered until the 1980s and in the original era they signified nothing except a flop release. The victorious triumvirate of King Crimson's progressive rock, Fairport Convention's folkrock and Led Zeppelin's hardrock came to power on what in 1969 was essentially an empty stage, left vacant and forfeit by Psychedelia.
4
One might argue that the pure Psychedelia discussed earlier, in which 'acidheads create music inspired by trips for other acidheads to listen to while they're tripping', marks the essential, logical end-state for psychedelic music. Most of the time however, the picture that emerges around Psychedelia is more complicated, both on the creative side and for those who are receiving it.
Among the pioneering groups, one can note a distinct set of differences. Acid rock remains a special case, and could only have evolved in the deeply psychedelicized and musically forgiving community of San Francisco's mid-'60s bohemia. Elsewhere, the approach towards merging rock music with Psychedelia took on more conscious and deliberate forms. On the one hand there was a band like the 13th Floor Elevators, whose entire raison d'être was based on The Psychedelic Experience, but whose music initially fell into the blend of British beat, folkrock and r'n'b that signified the US 'garage' era. Despite the otherworldly electric jug, only a couple of tracks on their debut album can be called 'psychedelic' in sound, while the lyrics were severely lysergic throughout. By 1967 the band's musical scope had caught up with their intellectual ambitions, and they were able to deliver music that was profoundly psychedelic in both theme and sound; richly varied, exotic, transcendental. The early Elevators represent a case where a thoroughly LSD-inspired band bring this influence into their lyrics and overall lifestyle, but have not yet adjusted their music to match it. By the time of Easter Everywhere, the transformation into Psychedelia is complete and the band's mission is fulfilled; 'that LP was our special purpose' as Tommy Hall put it. The Grateful Dead went through a very similar process, debuting with a fine but not overly trip-sounding album, while the follow-up Anthem Of The Sun stands as a full realization of their psychedelic ambitions. It is vital to note that both these albums were made expressly for a psychedelicized audience. 'It's supposed to be listened to on acid', Tommy Hall later said of Easter, while Jerry Garcia explained that Anthem had been 'mixed for the hallucinations'.
Another pioneering outfit The Deep managed to precede both the Elevators and the Dead in the effort to create music that not was not only inspired by psychedelics, but sounded truly psychedelic in auditory terms. Despite being a New York studio project whose ambitions may have been as much exploitative as exploratory, the producers succeeded in creating an album that is both convincing and original. From the acid punk chaos of the opening 'Color Dreams' to the enigmatic melancholy of 'When Rain Is Black' lies a vast emotional range, yet it remains profoundly tripped- out throughout. Not only is Psychedelic Moods (released October 1966; recorded as early as August) the first rock record to have a consistent psychedelic theme, but it stands as a more genuine reflection of the psychedelic mind state than a lot of genre music recorded after it. One reason for this is undoubtedly that the socio-cultural landscape of '66 was less complex and dramatic than that of '67-68, and so The Deep producers could focus entirely on the matter at hand. In addition to the wild, unpredictable soundscape, the lyrics deal explicitly and solely with The Psychedelic Experience, and on the best tracks they manage to capture one of the fundamental characteristics of true Psychedelia, which is the ambiguous, often contradictory moods.
This quality can also be found in the Beatles' most successful forays into Psychedelia, not least John Lennon's 'Strawberry Fields Forever' (January 1967). Lennon had addressed the confusion and contradictions of the acid trip already on his first genuine psychedelic composition, 'She Said, She Said' (Revolver, August 1966), wherein the inspired songwriting and sharp arrangements stand in contrast to the probing, slightly paranoid mind state that the lyrics reflect. On 'Strawberry Fields' Lennon goes one step further and turns the emotional complexity of the psychedelic state into the very theme of the song. The liquid nature of reality is stated in the opening lines and reflected over and over as his language dissolves to become part of the same psychedelic stream that it describes; from 'Nothing is real…', to the grasping 'I mean it must be high or low', to the indefinable 'I think I know I mean, ah yes, but it's all wrong, that is I think I disagree…'. All the helpful little dichotomies and dualisms of our everyday reality have dissolved into an undulating river of criss-crossing streams; sense perception, emotions, memory, desire, subject-object, clashing and dissolving into one another. The lyrics refer to an exceptional state whose complexity lies beyond the reach of language, yet the song manages to convey an emotional-artistic equivalent of that state (precisely like T S Eliot's 'objective correlate' requires), as well as to demonstrate its own linguistic failure via fragmented residuals of speech, confused and contradictory; the words of a small child or the dying man. Of course, as anyone who has heard the song knows, half the achievement lies in its unique arrangement and production, every little element in which serves to create its fleeting, surreal, and profoundly psychedelic impression.
