Journey to the Center of the MIND
At the mere mention of the term “psychedelic rock," most folks turn livid— their eyes cross, purple dots splotch their rosy cheeks, and steam begins puffing in short snorts from their nostrils. Punk has become acceptable, and bubble-gum can be considered a cute trend but acid rock...oh no, never! It is perhaps the only genre that can transform a solemn saint into a vituperative viper, hissing and lashing at art imaginary zonked-out world populated by Zen zombies.
Journey to the Center of the MIND
The Sound and Vision of PSYCHEDELIA
by
Robot A. Hull
“Okay. You’ve swallowed the magic cube, downed a cup of organic tea with filigree leaves, and placed the diamond needle on the appropriate sounds.
“Now sit back and wait 20 minutes, until twinges of nausea herald the coming of the hereafter.”—Richard Goldstein, from, “The Psychedelic Psell,” The Village Voice, 1967
Chaos all around me With its fevered clinging But I can hear you singing In the corners of my brain.
— 13th Floor Elevators, “I Had To Tell You”
At the mere mention of the term “psychedelic rock," most folks turn livid— their eyes cross, purple dots splotch their rosy cheeks, and steam begins puffing in short snorts from their nostrils. Punk has become acceptable, and bubble-gum can be considered a cute trend but acid rock...oh no, never! It is perhaps the only genre that can transform a solemn saint into a vituperative viper, hissing and lashing at art imaginary zonked-out world populated by Zen zombies.