Notes

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PSYCHEDELIC POP

At a safe enough distance of thirty years, it seems possible we may be
approaching a time when various factions of the generation can at last
agree, even if it's only to disagree, to mend some of the hurtful if not
tragic wounds that have ripped us apart for so long. l am not talking
right vs left here, hawks vs doves, straights vs hippies, pro-life vs
pro-choice. None of that trivial stuff. I am talking about the age-old
debate, still heard at watering holes and coffee houses from North Beach
in San Francisco to St. Marks Place on the Lower East Side of New York
City, about what exactly constitutes "Psychedelic" music.
Some contend that it's the sound of the sitar, that near Eastern
stringed thing popularized in the U.S. by Ravi Shankar. who mesmerized the
multi-colored face-painted throng at Monterey in 1967 and whose recently
released four-CD boxed set ought to bring a new X-generation similarly up
to speed on his eternal prowess. Yes, theramin toting Lothar & the Hand
People aside, that sitar sound surely is what rattles through the remains
of the brains of those who experienced(or at least can flash backto)the
original "Psychedelic Age" circa 1965-1969.
But wait, say the other equally righteously enraged folks, what about
the fuzz-toned, feedback-drenched, electrified, Les Paul-through-Marsha
11-stacks sound of the Yardbirds and the Jimi Hendrix Experience in their
heydays, egregiously if riotously proliferated by copycat clones and
self-appointed guitar messiahs on this continent and throughout Europe for
the next twenty years?
Which says nothing at all to the several constituents still at large
who cast their sugar cubes for the wild. Hammond B-3 orgies so much a part
of the essential Vanilla Fudge Zeitgeist.
And even less to the later construct upon which this particular set is
nominally based: Psychedelic Pop, wherein the Lemon Pipers and the
Strawberry Alarm Clock, as much for their clever ad-age monickers and
logos have at this point more or Iess secured their own mortaI lock on
musical history.
While easily a state of mind, of bearing, of consciousness (think
Jerry Garcia) as much as it ever was a soda or a lollipop, surely
Psychedelic Pop owes its legendary ascent into mass marketability to the
Byrds and the Jefferson Airplane. Trying to translate the sound of John
Coltrane into palatable Top 40 rock and roll ("Eight Miles High") was the
Byrds mid-60's mandate. Just as the Airplane were working on
transliterating the prose of Lewis Carroll into something like a wake-up
call for a new sensibility ("White Rabbit"). For their trailblazing
efforts, these two bands succeeded mainly in bringing upon themselves the
wrath of the government; in the case of the Byrds, "Eight Miles High" was
promptly whisked off the AM airwaves in mid-climb, before it could inflict
any further psychic damage on the impressionable ears of the baby boom.
Having established itself as not only intoxicating and somehow
dangerous, but offensive to know-nothing figures of authority, in other
words, all adults. Psychedelic Pop quickly became omnipresent. Its rules
were no rules, its structure formlessness, characterized by a
free-floating timeless barrage of experimentation. brought on not only by
the inner chemistry of the players involved but also by the outer world of
technology, the great new gadgets you could increasingly find in the
recording studios of the era. A euphonious cacophony ensued
It's possible that a new world of peace, bliss, feedback, and frenzy
for all could have been implied by this freedom to groove. Sadly, as the
Blues Magoos intimated in "(We Ain't Got) Nothin' Yet," no such new world
arrived. In fact, the Psychedelic Era is excessively littered with charred
and gnarled one-shots, players, songs, and bands all the more tragic for
their higher purposes and even higher expectations. The Electric Prunes'
haunting "I Had Too Much to Dream (Last Night)" and the Tradewinds'
evocative "Mind Excursion" speak directly to the hungers unappeased for
the kind of musical, sexual, and societal transcendence hinted at between
the lines of most of the era's Psychedelic classics.
Yet it is surely no accident that the eccentric, eclectic "cowboys on
acid." Camper Van Beethoven, prime exemplars of the neo-Psychedelic
movement that engulfed a new college-age generation not too long ago.
chose to cover on one of their aboveground albums Status Quo's Psychedelic
touchstone and only American hit, "Pictures of Matchstick Men." Not that
the era was devoid of its share of cosmic accidents, perhaps the most
amazing of which is contained on this set. Listen to "The Clown" for the
fruits of a most incongruous encounter between the guitar colossos Jimi
Hendrix, and the then (and still) obscure English rock band, Eire
Apparent. Since the band was produced by the Psychedelic Father of all
Pops himself, you might even detect his quint essentially Hendrixian
presence on the track, as Eire Apparent go for their cosmic moment with
all they had and more. And while all they had may not have been enough for
the ages, or even the moment, it is plenty for the discerning fan to
conjure and contemplate as the music plays on.

Bruce Pollock
Author of Hipper Than Our Kids : A Rock & Roll Journal Of the Baby
Boom Generation


A Message From Buddah Records 1/1/96
Buddah and Kama Sutra Records flourished from the mid 1960's through
the late 70's. During that time they released more than 700 singles and
hundreds of albums. Although some have been re-released by others over the
years, until now no one has undertaken the systematic re-introduction of
the entire catalog. We are now enthusiastically re-releasing original
albums and artful compilations. Whenever possible we are adding bonus
tracks for longer listening pleasure. And we are digitally remastering
everything for the very best sound possible. In some cases we've actually
remixed from the original multi-tracks; the results are astounding.
We appreciate your comments, suggestions and business. Feel free to
write us and we'll send you the most up-to-date listing of all our
releases. We want to hear from you.
Buddah Records
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