My inheritance

A few of the psychedelic records from the 60s to make it into my
growing record collection to date.  I only started collecting
vinyl March, 2016.

My father didn't leave me much when he departed this world - a well-worn first edition of Ernest Hemingway's  For Whom The Bell Tolls, a stack of worthless comics, and a deep love for the psychedelic music of the late 60s, and early 70s.  It's no wonder I love that music so.  Thanks to a chemical imbalance that wasn't diagnosed properly until well into
my adulthood, I hallucinate, and even though I'm on a healthy dose of anti psychotics these days, I still see things that aren't there - did you see that mockingbird fly down the hallway?  Or that dragonfly in the shower stall? No?  Well, there you have it.

On the one-year anniversary of my father's death I sat  down with my iTunes and started building a modest play list containing the best psych tunes and garage rock I could muster from my sprawling collection of 60s and early 70s rock 'n' roll, ranging from The Amboy Dukes ("Baby Please Don't Go," "Journey to the Center of the Mind") to The Zombies ("Time of the Season," "Tell Her No") and everything in between.  When it was done it contained 466 songs and said it would last 1.3 days.

Plenty of Strawberry Alarm Clock, a personal favorite, particularly the deep cuts off of the second album Wake Up... It's Tomorrow, made the grade.  Songs like "They Saw the Fat One Coming," "Curse of the Witches," "Nightmare of Percussion," "Sit with the Guru," "Pretty Song From Psych-Out," "Tomorrow," and "Sitting on a Star" were shoe-ins. Dad gave me "Incense and Peppermint," I discovered Wake Up... It's Tomorrow on my own.

Dad was good for that.  He'd dole out the hits and leave it up to me to root out the deep cuts for myself.  Sure, "Roadhouse Blues" rocks, it absolutely gets the blood pumping, but "Peace Frog" is my jam off that album.  In the case of Strawberry Alarm Clock, the title track "Incense and Peppermint" was the chart topper for that band, but a track that didn't even make the cut, a Japanese bonus track, is among my favorite songs the SAC has ever recorded - "Birdman of Alkatrash."  Yeah, I had to dig deep for that one.

When I was a pre-teen/early teen, and after dad had re-married, we lived in the country in a quiet little place pleasantly named Forest City in the  foothills of North Carolina.  In the summer time dad would put the radio on some oldies station out of South Carolina or maybe Charlotte in the evening, poor himself a big ole glass of sweet tea and go out and sit in a rocking chair on the front porch, listening to those oldies, and the occasional buzz and KA-zap of the bug zapper, while my brother Jason, our neighbor Dingo (yes, our neighbor was named after an Australian wild dog), and I rode our bikes around the yard.  We got an education in the era of garage rock and psychedelia.  "Good Vibrations," "Set Your Controls For the Heart of the Sun," "Silver Machine," "Eight Miles High," "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds," "We Gotta Get Out of This Place," "White Rabbit," "I Had To Much To Dream (Last Night)," "Are You Experienced?," "The WASP (Texas Radio and the Big Beat)," "Supernatural Fairy Tale," "Sister Morphine," we're starting to get into the deep cuts now...

I remember one particular evening we were listening to a top 100 oldies countdown and I had glommed onto to the Raspberries minor hit "I Wanna Be With You" for some reason.  IT, I declared, would be the number one oldie.  Hell, IT was from 1972 and I don't know if IT even qualified as an oldie or not.  Dad humored me, "It's possible I guess, son."  If I recall correctly, "Hey Jude" was named number one at the end of that particular countdown.

At one point during said countdown a fox came rushing out of the overgrown Civil War gravesite that was fenced off in a field just beyond our yard.  It was strange.  The fox must have been bedded down in the overgrowth of blackberry vines and brambles that was thriving in the unkempt burial site and been spooked when dad turned up the volume for Paul Revere and the Raiders' hit "Indian Reservation (The Lament of the Cherokee Reservation Indian)."  The fox ran out into the middle of the gravel road leading to our landlord's home, looked at us for a few seconds, tongue lolling out in the summer night heat, then ran off into the nearby copse of trees across the road to never be seen again.  Nothing more than a memory I have with dad and that specific song - "Indian Reservation" - now.

In dad's feeble, infirm years I often found myself taking him to the doctor.  I would reset my play lists on my iPhone the night before each appointment, ensuring I had plenty of good old fashioned psych and garage rock loaded so we'd have something good we both could enjoy listening to while on the road.  (I'm a metal head by nature, and he is decidedly not.  But I have plenty of fond memories of growing up psych.)  It was on one of those outings that the tune "Time of the Season" by the Zombies came on.  A smile crept across dad's face.  "That was your mom and I's song," he said, as the song drew to an end.  "I enjoyed that.  Let's have that one again."  I'm so glad he shared that with me.  I love being able to listen to that song now and know there was a time, of the season if you will, that it gave my mom and dad some pleasure and comfort in their lives, even if my mom says she doesn't remember.

Dad didn't get into the more esoteric of the psychedelic bands such as Pink Floyd, the Pink Fairies, or Hawkwind so it was left to me to discover those groups on my own.  As one would expect, the first of those bands I came across was Pink Floyd.  I first encountered Pink Floyd's The Wall while in grade school still.  Granted, this was later day psychedelic, created in 1979, but most definitely a psych experience.  It was during a marijuana trip and I thought we were under attack by giant hammers. Yeah, I guess you could say it was a bad trip.   Dingo didn't help matters.  He pissed himself and sat in the corner with his hands around his knees gently rocking back and forth and crying about how he was going to get his ass beat for doing his dad's pot.  Like I gave a rat's ass, I was too busy dealing with Hitler's hammer's.  German's invading our sovereign nation took precedence over Dingo's hide.

Floyd and The Wall led me to Hawkwind which led me to the German band Amon Duul II, which led me to mind-expanding group Brainticket.

As I write this I dip back into that stream of consciousness that is the psychedelic iTunes play list I made with dad in mind. What does it have for me... "Kicks," "Tomorrow Never Knows," "19th Nervous Breakdown," "Hurry On Sundown," "We Could Be So Good Together," "Dogs," "Can't You Hear Me Knocking," "The House of the Rising Sun," "Pass Time With the SAC," "California Dreamin'," "1983... (A Merman I Should Turn to Be)"...

I miss my dad.  Where was I?

Dad, in the eternal Stones vs. Beatles argument, he was a Beatles man.  In high school he was in a band.  They played a lot of the Beatles' early stuff, "I Want to Hold Your Hand," "Love Me Do," "Ticket To Ride," stuff like that.  I would have loved for there to have been pictures to have survived, but to date nothing has turned up.  And recordings, but that's a pipe dream.  We are talking about the 60s here.  Personal recording devices were uncommon, hell down right rare back then.

Let's dip back into the stream one more time before I go... "Southern Cross," "L.S.D." "Tales of Brave Ulysses," "Horse Latitudes," "Burning of the Midnight Lamp," "Earschplittenloudenboomer," "Interstellar Overdrive," "Hey Jude," "Sympathy For the Devil,"  "My Sweet Lord" "Time"...

That's a good one to go out on...

"Every year is getting shorter never seems to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over
Thought I'd something more to say."

12 Records that Changed My Life

1. The Doors
This is the first album I ever received when I asked for a cassette player for my birthday.  I had expressed an interest in Jim Morrison and the song Light My Fire.  I fell in love with that album, Soul Kitchen, Alabama Song, Take It As It Comes, I Looked At You, and of course the stand out tracks, The Crystal Ship, Break On Through (To the Other Side) and The End.  I became a life-long Doors fan, even wrote my senior paper in high school on Jim Morrison, the poet in Mr. Watkins' English class.  Got an A+, and dropped the F-bomb multiple times.

2. Queen Greatest Hits
I was introduced to Queen via the single Another Bites the Dust off The Game album, and also when I saw the incredible Flash Gordon movie.  HBO and MTV often played Queen videos.  When my mom noticed my brother and I singing along to all the Queen songs she got us each a copy of Queen's Greatest Hits on cassette.  Ironically, this lead me to my next artist, David Bowie.

3. David Bowie Low
I came to David Bowie through Queen via the Greatest Hits cassette that in our region contained the duet Under Pressure.  I sought out further music by Mr. Bowie.  The first album I happened upon was this bright orange deal, with the simple title Low.  When the tape got to side two I was mesmerized.  These ambient sounds were all new to me.  I didn't know what to make of this.  I was fascinated.  Of course, at the time I didn't know the word "ambient."  In later life I would attempt to collect all of Bowie's studio albums on vinyl.

4. Stevie Nicks Bella Donna
I arrived at Stevie Nicks via an HBO recording of her Bella Donna tour.  I just happened to catch that one afternoon and was spellbound.  This witchy woman had her hooks in me BAD!  Her spell had been cast and I was hers for life.  I grabbed up the HBO guide for the month and made note of each subsequent airing of the concert during the summer and made it a point not to miss a single viewing.  I asked mom for the album, and received it, and learned of her band Fleetwood Mac and albums Rumors and the self-titled album.  Yes indeed, Stevie had a fan for life.

5. Iron Maiden Piece of Mind
I was in a hotel room in Washington, D.C. when my friend Robbie Lyrle first blasted the opening wail of The Trooper over his boom box one Saturday morning while everyone was getting ready to go down and eat breakfast.  'What the hell is that?" I exclaimed, excited, thrilled, blown away, all at once.  "That's Iron Maiden!" he coolly replied.  He rewound the song and started it again.  Wow!  This was what I needed in my life!  Heavy Metal!

6.  Van Halen 1984
The second Heavy Metal band I was exposed to in earnest was Van Halen.  The first time I heard the song I'll Wait, and it was I'll Wait, not Jump or Panama or Hot For Teacher, that I first heard over the radio, I was amazed by the combination of heavy metal guitar and synthesizer.  I had never heard that before.  Surely this was some new discovery I had made and nobody else was privy to this band yet.  Nope!  Been around since 1978.  Still, even though I was late to the party, I was hole-hog on board the heavy metal train now.  Until...

7. Prince Purple Rain
Everybody, even some of the die-hard heavy metal crowd, had to give Prince props.  I mean that guitar in Let's Go Crazy was smoking hot.  Purple Rain was the summer hit of 1984, both musically and theatrically, and I ate it up.  Of course, when my step-mother caught wind of the lyrics to Darling Nikki I was so grounded.  And my tape collection met with a cleansing when I was in North Carolina with my dad and her.  Mom was more lax, thank god.

8. Cinderella Long Cold Winter
I had already bit down on the band Cinderella with the release of Night Songs, but when Long Cold Winter dropped and the band showed off its blues and southern rock roots, all bets were off.  I had to see this band live in concert immediately, no matter who I had to kill.  I saw the band live on that tour three times, once as an opener for AC/DC and twice as headliners with Winger and the Bulletboys.  Still one of my all-time favorite live acts.

9. Extreme Pornograffitti
This album is aptly named.  The four ballads on this record ensured that I got laid in 1990.  That's really all I can say about this record. That, and if you don't like what you see here, get the funk out!

10.  Motorhead 1916
I had first been exposed to Motorhead in the 80s when the song Killed By Death was released.  I was a fan.  But I had never actually spent money on the band.  I heard Going to Brazil and purchased 1916.  Then I heard the title track and wept like a baby.  How moving?  That has to be the most stirring song about WWI I've ever heard and it came from Lemmy.  Motorhead would go on to become my favorite band until Lemmy's death in 2015.

11. Pantera Cowboys From Hell
I was driving home from work one afternoon when the DJ announced, "Here's the latest from Pantera, Cemetery Gates."  And he played the long version, the album version of the song.  Oh my god!  I had to have that album post haste.  I drove to my girlfriend's house, picked her up and we went immediately to the record store another hour's drive away just so I could purchase that album that night.  I played the HELL out of that album, as well as the next one from Pantera.  I wept like a little child with a burst balloon when Darrell was murdered.

12. Monster Magnet Dopes to Infinity
The final entry came purely by accident.  I was in a tape store in Morristown browsing and bumbled across a cool looking album cover with an interesting sounding band name and title.  Well, I judged a book by its cover and plunked down my $10 and went out to my car and popped in a stoner rock masterpiece.  With Lemmy passed and Motorhead no more, Monster Magnet has assumed the mantle as my favorite band.  I'm working diligently to collect every piece of vinyl they have ever released.

Hollywood - Memory Lane!

Hollywood back in the day!

Fear of Going in Las Vegas

(an affectionate work of parody)

My expansive collection of Hunter S. Thompson literature.

We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the laxatives began to take hold.  I remember saying something like, "I feel a bit like I'm going to shit my pants, maybe you should drive..."  And suddenly there was terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge toilets, all flushing and splashing around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas.  And a voice was screaming, "Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn things?"

The it was quiet again.  My attorney had taken off his shirt and was pouring castor oil on his chest, to facilitate the tanning process.  "What the hell are you yelling about?" he muttered, staring up at the sun with his eyes closed and covered with wraparound Spanish sunglasses.  "Never mind," I said.  "It's your turn to drive."  I hit the brakes and aimed the Great Red Shark toward the shoulder of the highway.  No point mentioning those toilets, I thought.  The poor bastard will see them soon enough.

It was almost noon, and we still had more than a hundred miles to go.  They would be tough miles.  Very soon, I knew our intestines would be completely twisted.  But there was no going back and there was no time to shit or get off the pot, as they say.  We would have to ride it out.  Press registration for the fabulous Mint 400 was already underway, and we had to get there by four to claim our two-bathroom suite.  A fashionable sporting magazine in New York had taken care of the reservations, along with this huge red Chevy convertible we'd just rented off the Sunset Strip... and I was, after all, a professional journalist; so I had an obligation to cover the story, for good or ill.

The sporting editors had also given me $300 in cash, most of which was already spent on extremely dangerous drugs.  The trunk of the car looked like a mobile hospital purgatives lab.  We had two colostomy bags, 75 tablets of Exlax, 2-ply sheets of Cottonelle, a salt shaker half full of cholestramine, a whole galaxy of multicolored purgatives, aperients, laxatives, insoluble fiber, also a quart of paregoric, a quart of castor oil, a case of Correctal, a pint of raw prune juice and two dozen enemas.

All this had been rounded up the night before in a frenzy of high-speed driving all over Las Angeles County - from Topanga to Watts, we picked up everything we could get our hands on.  Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious purgatives collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can.

The only thing that really worried me was the prune juice.  There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of a prune juice binge.