Remembering Daevid Allen @gongplanet: poet, storyteller, shaman, gliss guitar pioneer, and pot head pixie. Je ne fume pas des bananes.
Summer 1969. I was lucky enough to be at summer camp for 8 weeks - albeit without my music. I'd left my reel-to-reel tape recorder at home. Sure, it was portable - about the size of an encyclopedia volume - but there were other plans for it. By now, the Beatles had performed in public for what would be the last time and Cream had broken up leaving us with a posthumous "Goodbye". We'd just lost Brian Jones. Abbey Road, Black Sabbath, and "Whole Lotta Love", were still several months down the road. On a brighter note, new music by a band called Led Zeppelin and a "rock opera" by The Who had been on everyone's turntables. But the real sleeper of the summer was a new album by a group of guys from the Byrds, Buffalo Springfield, and Hollies, singing in killer three-part harmony. They were rumored to be playing only their second public gig at a music festival in upstate New York in August. That was less than a day's hitchhike away from camp! Wouldn't it be cool if...well, maybe not. All this, of course, couldn’t compare to the real event of the summer. Men were going to land and walk on the friggin' MOON! To a teenager obsessed with space, electronics, and Popular Science, this was truly the most awesome thing ever! My parents kindly agreed to press my aforementioned tape recorder into service and record as much of the live television broadcasts from this historic occasion as there was room on the three-inch reel of tape. Thanks to them, I'm happy to share some of that with you now, along with a collection of super incredible music from a most amazing time.