you felt invincible…

I spent a lot of time with side 1. The Regulator.

There are however three other sides.

They are not the chopped up psychedelic Krautrock piece of the first side, they are definitely the Crazy Horse unleashed version. It’s more spacey though. Saxes warbling in the background as the guitars phase around them.

It’s stretched out and fulfilling

The Universe Inside has become my favorite album in a short time, constantly evolving and changing as you listen. It’s a whole lot of fun and never dull.

I’m really glad I managed to get past side 1.

Side 4. The Slowest Rendition Is another extended piece that bookends the album nicely.

Then I plowed on with their first reunion album.

When the album is too shiny to photograph.

I have decided to declare February psychedelia month.


Okay I love this album. Everything about it. The cool cover with the yellow stars. The overly academic essay on the inner sleeve. The fact it has a CD I will never play attached to it.

Every great psychedelic album released since 1972, the year this masterpiece was released owes a debt to this album, or this is playing behind the other music.

Listening to this will change your brain permanently. You will be happier and more content.

It sounds like the inner workings of the multiverse.

Tomorrow I am taking on the first album again. I feel ready.

Yes most people will not enjoy this particularly. However that’s their loss and I don’t care that as I play this I am probably causing horrific dreams for everyone else in the house.

No I am not joking. This has been revelatory.

let the culling begin…

So the cull has begun.

I ventured into eBay territory to sell some records. Just a few to see how this goes. I never listen to them so why not someone else may really dig them and get some joy. Of course we will see if it’s too big a hassle then I’m outta there. After all I’ll only spend the money on more records.

As I looked at the shelves I realized how many I don’t actually listen to. Yes there are some I really love and keep for sentimental reasons. There are some I could probably not do without. There are some I really love listening to but to be honest I’d be just as happy streaming. As I write that I realize how wrong it sounds.

The selling however may become another problem. It’s the constant nagging concern nobody is looking for that very record. Then I got my first bid and we are off to the races.

I know some may find this disheartening but I started with a Kiss album. Rock and Roll Over. I have no idea if I like it or loathe it. It left almost no impression on me. I love the idea of Kiss, the makeup, the horror show, the rabid fans etc. I just have never been able to connect with the music on any level. I even went to see them and it was a blast.

We will have to see how this all goes it could be a slippery slope. I have been eyeing those Uriah Heep albums, not really they are too much apart of my youth.

Well we shall as they say see.

in a crowded room near the box of boom…

The collision between country and psychedelia is as old as well the first time Jerry Garcia picked at a pedal steel or Gram Parsons donned his first Nudie suit. It probably is something to do with the myth of American rugged individualism.

My Morning Jacket take it a step further along. All the aggression of rock, the weirdness of psychedelia and a little country thrown in. It’s an all American melange, and they play forever, another classic america trait a la Springsteen and the Dead.

Okonokos recorded at the Fillmore in San Francisco where they probably found some Dead fans in the basement hoping for a miracle. They have a nice dose of reggae as well always a favorite sound for all the best festival bands.

I’m not good at song by song stuff. I tend to get lost in the feel. So if you want a little Crazy Horse in your life now that Neil left the building/well the virtual Spotify building that is give this a go.

Also let’s face it Okonokos is a cool title whatever it means.

you just smiled and gently shook your head…

I remember being so excited about finding this record. The guy next to me at the store told me it was a fake.

Discogs arbiter of all things vinyl related lists it as “unofficial.” Again I’m not sure I know what that means.

What I do know is that it is a slice of super English whimsy and psychedelia in the strangely off kilter Canterbury style. Again whatever that means.

It’s also very pretty pink vinyl with grey splatters that my crappy pic does no justice to.

I’ve always liked Caravan. Their album titles often appealed to the juvenile me and still make the aging me smile so they have that. They always seemed a little less elitist with their prog leanings than some other progsters. Again that may have been the obvious sense of humor.

It’s also good on headphones.

if I could change your mind…

Welcome to Coral Island.

The Wirral’s finest have made their masterpiece. A psychedelic, pop extravaganza spread over four beautiful yellowy green sides.

Narrated by the Skelly’s grandad it’s the tale of the rise and fall of a British seaside town. Love, loss, infidelities, rockers and mods and all the things that happen by the seaside.

And it only took ten albums.

Go on get lost in the swirling whirling colors of the piers and candy floss and the sound of seagulls the smell of fish and chips and the sight of deck chairs on the sand.

I always expect to hear a Coral song during the chase scene in a Scooby Doo cartoon. I know one day it’s gonna happen even if I have to do it myself.

Part 2 is darker.

Just when I thought the age of concept albums was over we are all saved.

I think it’s meant to be yellow vinyl but it’s really not the most successful color for a record. It’s reminiscent of well, I’ll leave that to your imagination.

remember to let the dogs out…

In my head I write these massive posts explaining what is going on in my head. The many small and meaningless thoughts I have driving from one place to the next to keep people going in social services for just one more day.

On Fridays I drive home past the perpetual Trump rally. Their flags and the beer bellies screaming. Their misogyny and hatred. It’s a he last thing I see on my way home each week.

I’ve figured out how to anger the massive pick up driving idiots on the way home. The answer is to drive the speed limit. Yesterday it was foggy, visibility was low and the idiot behind me was tail gating and flashing his lights. So I stuck to the speed limit, I could almost see the rage in his eyes in my rear view mirror. I checked out the local Facebook page and there it was “f@&k you the driver of the jeep who made me drive 55 for four miles tonight”. A nice description of my jeep. Go figure speed limits 55.

Which brings me to this.

Wayne and the boys explaining in view point of the American Head. It’s a much more tranquil place than the roads home right now.

Sound like Neil Young joined Pink Floyd at times which is not a bad thing and kind of the most endearing quality of the best Flaming Lips albums.

Brother Eye is my favorite this evening.

have you heard it?


I still have not got past the 20 minute opening track The Regulator. Inhabiting a place and time in my imagination when the Grateful Dead had a jam session with Can. 

The Dream Syndicate The Universe Inside.