A Schnippet From A Space Full Of Pictures

One of the more under-analysed aspects of the psychedelic experience is its stillness. For immeasurable seconds pin-prick details harden and gleam into focus, the hum in the head ceases and time and space contract into an unbroken unit of eternity. You’re staring into a moment that hangs multi-faceted in its singularity like a bunch of grapes on a vine. Able to be examined from all angles at leisure. To be seen into, outside of, throughout and around. It’s a silent and unbreakable eternity that is snatched away by the sudden intrusive roar of linearity – someone hands you a water pistol, a raucous peal of manic laughter – that brings you back to the sensate chaos of the trip.

“Under-analysed” as in not focussed on much by rock bands. Rock bands like the chaos of sensation, the grubby smear of wah-ed guitars blurring cause and effect, long hair tossed under hammering strobe lights, gloopy electronics mimicking the matings and separations of the blobs of the endless oil wheel. Mess and gushes of ecstasy, smears and splatters, so much Pollocks. Nothing wrong here, nothing bad, but this is accurate to a single trickle-down idea of what psychedelia is. A second, third, forth hand description photocopied from the note book of someone who was tripping, for fuck’s sake…

Mat Colegate


The Quietus. The Lead Review: Mat Colegate On MY DISCO’s Severe, October 23rd, 2015 08:41.

[The rest of the article then takes a rather different tack, which you may or may not find to be to your taste… it’s certainly an impassioned argument…]

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