As Birdsong lit off, so did I. The acid and I were peaking. I was mesmerized, in a trance. Not so much by the song but because of the less busy music involved. I was able to hear the drums of course and keyed in on them, because…I play the drums?

In the background I heard a constant low rumble that struck my heart. I scanned the stage.

Ok, there is Jerry, who I knew of. There is the little guy, Bob, with another electric guitar. There’s a woman. That’s the drummer. What is that tall guy with glasses doing with the big guitar? It suddenly clicked. That was the sound I had been hearing in the background of my AM radio all this time, thinking it was drums. What I was actually hearing was the sound of this instrument.

“Snake, see that tall guy with the big guitar? What is that?”

Snake snorked as he laughed at me, “That’s the bass guitar, Phil Lesh. Can’t you see it only has four tuning keys?” I focused. Yes, four pegs on the headstock. Mind blown. I became a bass player at that moment. I also became extremely tripping.

The Wall of Sound speakers were pointing at me, directly at me and no one else. Like a hundred eyes of mystical psychedelic fury, each cone jetted the pulsing sound directly to my ears, melting my brain for the rest of the night, possibly the rest of my life. The musicians clattered on the stage, waving and pouncing, looking like loose bottom teeth on the giant maw of an enormous laughing clown sporting sparkly gold and metallic green hair.

I guess Owsley IS the good stuff.

#thefootlessgirlsofcampc

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