Monday'years 1967'n th'psychedelic revolution is hittin' on all fronts with th'red crayola takin' some wigged out guitar manglin' from sun baked texas over to th'west coast,to th'berkeley folk festival where their form o'avant slop is not totally appreciated,th'audience not sure what to make o'this new way o'communicatin'...a mixture o'freejazz noodlin' with some 'heavy air'style deadism is a new experience for th'folky crowd,this free form feedback clutter is somethin else,somethin' modern'n otherworldly,not entrenched in tradition like th'rest o'th'festival artists...tribal'n trancy,a thousand years o'primal beats burst forth into th'sun o'a new day,this is th'sound o'cats on a mission,not unlike fellow travellers th'godz'n early '66 velvet underground'n to some degree AMM,where freedom o'expression knows no boundaries,limited only by imagination,new ideas arrive'n leave in seconds,th'sound o' NOW fleetin' through th'ether on its eternal jounrney o'transformed o'those disks that needs to be heard a few times before list'nin' in full can begin,once immersed in this racket there is no goin' back,th'past can only disappear from view...


Blogger Neilantman said...


5:33 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


9:30 PM  

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