Lsd and Headphones / Part 3

The dig at the garage of my dreams was beyond all expectations.  The quality and quantity was nearly unfathomable. I had to be pried away, but still it appeared that between this dig and the rock records from Larry, my personal collection had doubled in size. We were back at the house, and I had a difficult choice of what to play. An album that stood out was “Middle Eastern Rock” by John Berberian. Berberian played the Oud, an instrument I was unfamiliar with at the time. There were instruments that sounded mysterious and intriguing, like the Oud, and  Dumbeg. All of the time signatures are listed next to the tracks, in fact one song is called “3/8 + 5/8 = 8/8”. Larry said he had never heard this either, so we dropped the needle.  

From the opening bass lines I knew this was going to be a wild ride. The electric guitar kicks in, as well as a hand drum (dumbeg). Then comes percussion and the Oud, and pure madness ensues. The time is unreal. The signature claims to be 4/4, which is quite a lark! I couldn’t tell you what it is, but this much I know to be a joke. It’s like a Middle Eastern mathematician met a psych rock guitarist who invites his jazz buddies over to make soup.  The Middle East influence was overwhelming, the familiar fuzz of psych guitar, and I couldn’t help but feel these cats listen to a lot of jazz. This magic shack in the woods could simply do no wrong. No matter what we put on that turntable, it was some of the greatest music I had ever heard.

I still had one more day to absorb what I could from the encyclopedia of rock’n’roll. There were so many names I knew, but who’s music I hadn’t heard. One is which was Steppenwolf.  Larry had all their albums, several copies of each of course. He decided to introduce me to them with Steppenwolf The Second. Side 2 has a long suite which leads into a killer instrumental breakdown, and and he cranked it up loud.  

Simply being in the room with Larry, watching him dance and feel every drumbeat and guitar lick deep in his soul was an experience all to itself. I looked at him, and realized that he was father figure I always wished I had.  Not having a close relationship with my own father, I found others where I could. This man had shown me a world of music I never knew existed. In the first week of knowing him he trusted me like a son, and passed on to me treasures of the best years of his life. All of this flashed through my mind in an instant, and it brought me to tears. I began sobbing, tears were pouring out of my eyes, uncontrollably. This was cathartic, and though he had joked about crying, I knew I would be the first one. It was a moment of pure beauty. 

Just then, his home phone started ringing.  He knew who it was, it was the ex. “Turn that shit down, I can hardly think! I’ll admit that John Kay sure sounds good, but turn it down!” She had her years of rocking out too, but those days were long over. Larry was still there, he personified the expression “stuck in the 60’s”. His body lives in the 21st century, but his mind was still in the Summer of Love, and he’d have it no other way. “Ok Vicky, I’m sorry I’ll turn it down. Charles hadn’t heard it before, I had to play it, right!”

Sadly, it had been a week, and it was time to leave. I could have stayed there another month, and truly there was nothing I’d rather do. Time comes to a grinding halt here in Larry’s world. I felt no pressure to be anywhere, and my cell reception was crap. All we had to do was listen to music, get high and occasionally drink some water. Still, my real life existed in Portland, not to mention I needed to make more money to buy more records. We loaded up the van with boxes, easily worth 10x as much as vehicle transporting them, and said our goodbyes. 

Larry asked me, “What’s your plans when you get back home?” Other than the obvious plan of listening to as many records as humanly possible, I needed to get back to work. I was also excited to hang out with a girl I had just met before we left.  We stayed in contact, but hadn’t seen each other since meeting. It seemed like we had a good connection, and she was worth pursuing. “Haha!  Really?  You think you’re going to make a new girlfriend?  This is your new girlfriend, right here. You just bought enough music to last the next five years!” He was right.  I met up with her and a friend of hers and I couldn’t stop talking about my experience in the woods. The friend was on the edge of her seat, loving every minute of my story. The one I was interested in, who’s name I can’t remember, didn’t give a crap about the records, Larry, or whatever else I blabbered about nonstop for at least two hours. She could tell this wasn’t worth another minute of effort, and even if she did like me, she would play second fiddle to a giant stack of plastic. We never talked again after that day, which was completely fine with me.

I spent the rest of a beautiful summer indoors spinning records, and my life has never been the same since. If you let them, records have a way of taking over your life. This is especially true if you’re single, don’t have kids, and buy a thousand of them at one time. Ever since this trip records have been my closest companions, my livelihood, and more often than I’d like to admit, my girlfriend.

One thing true of most record addicts, our voracious appetites are rarely fulfilled. Though I had listened to less than 10% of what I bought, I wanted more. There was the greatest private record shop in the world just 9 hours away, and the magic shack in the woods where everything sounded perfect.  There was also one thing Zac and had to do our next time, eat acid with Larry. We knew he had the real shit, he was too old school to fuck around with anything else.  

At this time I had tried LSD 7 or 8 times, chasing what all the fuss was about. Never did I enjoy it. I always found myself incredibly anxious, or curled up in strange position for god knows how long. I wanted to be done with it ten minutes in, but it wasn’t done with me for the rest of the night.  This is entirely contrary to my experiences with psilocybin, which I love, and showed me a side of life never before seen. To quote Timothy Leary, a Harvard professor at the time, “I learned more about psychology in the five hours after taking these mushrooms than I did in the preceding 15 years of studying and doing research in psychology.” Leary would eventually be a father of LSD with chemist Owsley Stanley, giving the miracle molecule to the people of earth. To Zac and I, our business would go unfinished until we had our “experience”.

We hopped back in the minivan that had served us so well, and drove back down to California. When we got there, the door was open to Larry’s bedroom. He greeted with hugs, it felt great to be back. He was happy to have us for another adventure, and the feeling was mutual. “Hey man great to see you guys! I’ve just been going through these 45’s. This gospel is some of the best stuff I’ve found yet.” Right then he takes out the next one to give a listen. The song is called Christian’s Ambition by The Soul Seekers.  Now I love gospel music.  It’s the roots of blues, and I had some killer gospel in my collection, but Christian’s Ambition?  

The title alone made me want to throw it in the garbage. This was sure to be a dud, and I said this out loud.  “Naw, you never know Charles, I’ve been really impressed so far.”  He drops the needle.  Two slow bass lines with killer, hip hop sample worthy drums. Two licks off the guitar, and some of the most soulful vocals I’ve ever heard came belting out of those speakers. I couldn’t believe my ears! This the exact kind of track I spent so many hours trying to find. It was the dopest gospel cut I’ve ever heard, and to this day I can still say the same. I swear to you, this was the first song we heard on this visit.  It if wasn’t obvious enough, there was something about this place that was pure magic.

The very next day, we dropped our plan on Larry.  “We want to eat some acid with you!” This took him off guard. “For real? You sure?”  “Yeah man, we’ve been talking about it ever since we left last time.” He was totally surprised, but also knew he could curate the perfect environment for us.  Larry had more acid trips under his belt then I had trips to the grocery store. He could show us the perfect places, and play the perfect music. It didn’t take all that much convincing for him to agree, however he thought it would be wisest if he stayed sober so he could drive us to the beach.  

He went to his freezer and pulled out two Vitamin C pills that had a drop of liquid on them. Zac and I looked at each other, and down the hatch they went.  

Like most hallucinogens, they take a little while to kick in. About two hours later, it hits us at about the same time. Zac and I look at each other, and I could tell we had left our current plane of existence. My insides felt tight, but in a strangely pleasurable way. The trees in his yard took on a new life, as if we were peers. I found myself apologizing to them for the genocide of their species, something I help contribute to on a first hand basis. There is a harmony with nature and the earth that I’ve only felt with psychedelics, and shortly after leaving the plane, I was there.

We got in the minivan, and Larry drove. It was a gorgeous summer day, full sunshine, warm and not too hot. We arrived at College Cove, a popular beach destination outside of Arcata. Walking along the trail to get to the beach, I stared at the ground and could see each tiny life form with more detail than I ever had before. “All the little things…”  I must have muttered my thoughts aloud. “Yes… all the little things, Charles” Larry chuckled to himself. He knew precisely where I was. Again, he was the professor and I was the student.

College Cove has a long set of steps to get down to the beach. About halfway down them, we had to pause and take in the view of the ocean and it’s majesty. “It’s amazing!” It was almost as if we saw the ocean for the first time. “Yes it really is amazing.” Yikes! The voice came from our backs, but Larry was ahead of us. We turned around and there was an older couple right behind us.  How long had they been there? I had no sense of time and they could have been held up on those steps ten minutes for all I knew.  “You might want to move past them”, Larry says to the couple. “No, it’s ok we’re enjoying the view as well.” “Well they’re really enjoying the view, it might be a while.” They got the drift it might take some time, and we stepped aside to let them pass.

On the beach, we had a small picnic. I’ve known to travel with fine cheese and a charcuterie, this trip was no exception. I even bring my own cutting board on vacation, and brought this all down to the beach, With the help of Larry’s pocket knife, I sliced salami thinner than a meat slicer on the finest setting. It was effortless, perfect slices so thin you could read a magazine through it.  

This stuff was really blowing my mind. This may seem inconsequential, but to me it was irrefutable proof of the power of LSD. I’ve sliced a lot of salami in my day, but never like this. It was evidence that translated to the physical world, not just psychological. On June 12th 1970, a pitcher for the Pittsburgh Pirates named Dock Ellis thew a no hitter on LSD.  It was the only one of his career, and this is no coincidence.  My salami slicing is far less epic than his achievement, but no pun intended, they’re playing the same sport. There were certain powers it brought out, and your abilities are heightened to new levels.

I closed my eyes, and it was pure Alex Grey.  Bright colors and phenomenal geometric patterns, replicating themselves a thousand times in perfect harmony. I’ve always admired his art, but for the first time I actually understood it. This should have been obvious, but it took seeing the world through the lens of LSD. 

I took a walk by myself, and a thousand thoughts drifted through my head.  There’s the saying, that eyes are the gateway to the soul. It became so clear to me, that this is why certain people avoid eye contact. They don’t want to be seen for who they are truly are in their soul. This is mostly their subconscious whether they know it or not, but I knew this to be truth. Like Leary, I felt like I had learned so much about everyday occurrences that I never fully previously understood. It’s amazing that one tiny drop of liquid, so light it cannot be weighed, can show a 200 lb. full grown adult a whole universe they never knew existed. 

After the afternoon at the beach, we headed back home, still heavily under the influence. We hadn’t heard any music yet, and Larry knew exactly what to play.  The first song to hit the platter was Are You Experienced.  Though I had listened to this a hundred times before, this was the first time I ever heard it.  “Have you ever been experienced? Well, I have.”  His words echoed through my ears into the core. I felt as if I was part of the music, it lifted me up and carried me into it’s stream.  “Not necessarily stoned, but… beautiful.” Ohhhhh… those five words melted me like candle wax.  Everything finally made sense. Never has someone else’s words express my thoughts more clearly. This is what it was to be experienced. All the times listening to that song, I finally knew what he meant.

“I got a special one lined up for you guys. This is one I stumbled across one day, I think you will like it.” He takes out an album called Bakersfield 63.  Recorded in Bakersfield, CA, it’s the sound of tuned up muscle cars speeding down a quarter mile racetrack.  Zac says, “I think I’ll sit this one out” which wasn’t a bad idea, but I was awfully curious. He hadn’t failed us yet in the slightest, this was bound to be good.  

Larry sits me down in the sweet spot, opposite the two speakers. He adjusts the levels, turning the bass way up. I can hear the announcer far in the background, and more closely is the low rumble of god knows how many horses. Every so often you hear the engine rev slightly, BRUMMM…BRUMMM… and then lay back out. Then, all of a sudden he cranks the volume full blast and 400 horses go screaming WWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA……. aaaaaaaa……aaaaaa…. and out of sight.  

Holy crap! The power of that recording on full blast shook my spine! Every cell in my body vibrated and tingled. “Did you like that Charles?”  “OH YEAH!  GIVE IT TO ME AGAIN!” The next car pulls up to the line, and is introduced by the muffled voice in the distance. BRUMM…. BRUMM…  He flutters the volume to make it more dramatic. Then, he generously turns the knob clockwise and WWWAAAAAAAAAAAA……..aaaaaaaa……aaaaaaa!  It was amazing! This revelation was as serendipitous as Alexander Fleming leaving the petri dish open. How the hell did he find this! Yet again he passed on his wisdom, showing me something amazing that I’ll never forget, and never would have found on my own.

Larry had one more thing to share with me, headphones.  You could tell he didn’t use them often anymore, as he dug far back on a shelf to find them.  They were covered in a thin layer of dust, these were likely the same ones he was “raised” on.  “Give this a shot, see what you think.” He hands me the headphones, and I place them on my ears. For the first time, I didn’t like it.  The sound didn’t feel right to me. We were two positively charged ions, oil and water, or as Loverboy taught us, pig and elephant DNA just don’t splice.  

This experience taught me something important. Some things just cannot be passed down. Sometimes, you just had to be there, and the experience cannot be taught regardless of context. LSD and headphones was meant for a time and place that existed decades ago, and the world is not the same anymore.  

At this point I had spent less than 10 days with him. In this brief time he passed on to me decades of wisdom, so much more than just records, far more than I can fit in three stories. This was a man that had lived five lifetimes in 60 years. He struggled with diseases and addictions, incarceration, a vasectomy and reverse vasectomy (the latter being the funniest damn story I’ve ever heard in my life), the suicide of his brother whose name you might actually know, countless deaths and overdoses, raising four children, grandchildren, and more live- music than any of us can imagine. In his own words, “I’ve used a rock for a pillow and I’ve had more money than I can pick up and carry.” These are the experiences that helped shape the man he became. I consider him to be one of my strongest mentors, and among the most important people I’ve ever met.  And though he did everything but transport me back in time, to an era of free love, live music, a plethora of drugs and spiritual awakening, this was his experience, one I can only listen to the stories, admire, and experience vicariously from afar.
THE END.

by Charles Pearlman