According to George Case, one of the most significant datesin the chronicle of the 1960swas that day in August, 1964 when Bob Dylan sharedhis stash of pot with the Beatles. At their first meeting, the distance betweenthe pop sensations and the esteemed folksinger was crossed on the rope bridgeof cannabis. The Beatles had energized themselves since their backbeat days in Hamburg on theartificial rush of amphetamines, but marijuana slowed the rotation of theirworld, conjuring a comfortable reflective bubble within the tumult ofBeatlemania.
In Out of Our Heads:Rock’n’Roll Before the Drugs Wore Off (published by Backbeat Books), Caseargues that the Beatles’ music was never the same after that fateful encounter.Rubber Soul was marijuana in wordsand music and the launch pad into the psychedelic explorations of Revolver and Sgt. Pepper. And in the wake of the British Invasion, where theBeatles went, so went the youth of the world.
Nowadays drug trafficking is no longer thepursuit of romantic outlaws but unregulated capitalism at its most vicious;beyond the warm embrace of ganja is only the wasteland of crack and crank, theflourishing methadone industry and the casualties of heroin. It’s difficult formany people to remember that drugs were once considered the key to a betterfuture, not just an anesthetic against the pain and confusion of the present.And given the neo-Puritan climate in which endless coffee refills have replacedthe two-martini lunch and lighting a cigarette in a bar is becoming a crime,it’s also hard to recall a time when Willie Nelson smoked a joint in the WhiteHouse and harder drugs were hidden in plain sight wherever rock music washeard.
Making the case for the role of illicit drugs inthe revolution rock underwent in the ‘60s, the Canadian author reminds us thatpot, psychedelics, cocaine and heroin were not merely lifestyle accessories formusicians but integral to the sound and vision of the music itself. Hesometimes overreaches: The Outsider’s pop soul hit “Time Won’t Let Me” hardlyqualifies as psychedelia. Also, Case seems unaware that the term “groovy” wasalready hipster lingo in the big band era and was not necessarily linked withsex and drugs and rock’n’roll. Occasionally he hits a wrong note. Calling theByrds “moderately successful” overlooks their string of hits and enormousinfluence.
However, Case’s thesis holds up to scrutiny. The“classic rock” of the ‘60s and ‘70s would have sounded differentand might nothave been so classichad it not been under the influence of drugs.
Make no mistake: Out of Our Heads is no mindless celebration of hedonism and drugabuse. Case quotes Ringo Starr on the value of mind-altering chemicals the daybefore a session, “you’d have that creative memory,” but that anything actuallyrecorded while stoned “was shit, absolute shit.” He critiques the greatmountebank of psychedelic revelation, Timothy Leary, and paints depressingpictures of the Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin in their druggiest phases. Asthe ‘60s turned into the ‘70s, his chronicle becomes a sad litany ofdrug-related death: Brian Jones, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, JohnBonham, Keith Moon and later, Richard Manuel and Jerry Garcia. Sly Stone andKeith Richards could be classed with the living dead. Case is quick to add thatno one ever died from smoking too much pot.
Case’s analysis of the long hangover afterclassic rock ended is also provocative. The misuse of drugs, pervasive in oursociety, has become the topic of journalists and politicians, not the muse ofmusicians. Sometime after the ‘70s, the cultural gravity of rock receded,reduced to Playstation games and product purchased online and on the cheap.Unlike some pathetic characters passing themselves off as alternative rockersand the soulless contenders of American Idol, the great musicians of classicrock actually could play and sing with feeling, their talents honed organicallyin front of audiences.
The music Case loves “was written and playedintuitivelyself-taught, often improvised music of drunk, stoned, very earnest,and very young people.” The technology of the ‘60s posed creative challenges tobe overcome, unlike the prefabricated boxes confining the postmodern imagination.By making everything available with the click of a mouse, the Internet hasdrained the music scene of mystery. It’s all very sobering and not much fun.
