TIMOTHY LEARY/JAIL NOTES Introduction by Allen Ginsberg Douglas

I don t. know how important this book is, but 1 suspect that if you are reading this review that you are possessed of at least some of the same emotions about Tim Leary that I have.

On the one hand, Leary (and LSD — they�re unfortunately, inseparable) played a big part in changing my life. For that I have a lot of love for the man. Though it may seem obvious, it should be made clear at the onset that Tim Leary — perhaps more than any other single figure of our times — has promulgated doctrines that drive deep into the fabric of both our minds and our lives (inseperable though THEY be). For anyone who grew up in the last ten or fifteen years, Tim Leary is, to some degree, a figure who commands attention, love and even respect. Many of us listen when he speaks, and a lot of us would like to take him seriously,

Unfortunately, that now seems impossible.

Look, here�s an analogy that doesn�t seem improbable. I�ve got a puppy. She�s got a chicken bone. She likes it. It�s good for her, even, vitamins and everything. But I�ve gotta take it away. Otherwise, she�ll choke. If the dog can learn to eat the bone in such a manner

that the bone won�t splinter, of course, or if she can get the KIND OF BONE that won�t splinter, she can have it. Otherwise, if I let her continue, she�s gonna choke to death. So I take the bone away, you know.

Well, acid is Tim Leary�s chickenbone. He refuses to use it as a tool, he refuses to relate to acid/mysticism as a mere technological asset and insists upon naming it the device, the only answer.

�Main function of human life? Wise ingestion of drugs . . . Basic activity of drugs? Righteous selection of chemicals ingest . . . Social psychological harmony depends entirely on psychotropic drugs intake. � (Page 83, italics mine) '•

That simply isn�t true any longer; it isn�t viable and it isn�t a little funny. That kind of crap gets people killed these days; acid salvation may be the Greening of America put in less academic rags, but it�s still a psychedelic Love Story4 to me.

The dream, John and Yoko inform us, is over. Indeed. It might be better had Timothy lived in a little less harmonious surroundings during the time before he went to prison. It might be better for him to begin to relate to what his white skill privilege means, to what his economic status means, to what life is really like. And, yes, there is a specific reality on Planet Earth, which, if not unignorable — Leary proves that — is at least unconscionable.

The great American god individualism strikes another killer blow to the solar plexus of the youth culture. Our prime nemesis, you might say. Well, you can�t do it alone. The eradication of the individual ego won�t do it. The negation of what things are like, environmentally, for the majority of people on this planet, most of the time, won�t do it.

Certainly, it is necessary and desirable that political people right now have a perception of the unity of �cosmic consciousness and revolutionary consciousness� as John Sinclair put it in Liberation Music.

But to presume that cosmic and revolutionary consciousness are overlyintimately intertwined is to indulge in the most reactionary self-deceit.

Eventually, and exactly to the extent to which we lionize him, Leary�s dilemma is all of ours. We cannot give up on our acid vision, but our acid vision was wrong in degree. Social change, on a drastic level, isn�t quick and easy: the yoga of revolution is the most demanding yoga man knows, for it involves not only the abrogation of the individual ego but a concerted effort on the part of each individual to fuse his identity with that of his peers; it requires a full time desire to do more than merely work things out independently but to carry on a constant dialogue with one�s partners about what the proper methodology for a �harmonious life� on the planet is.

We can not, we obviously WILL NOT, reach those kind of ends via the �righteous ingestion of chemicals�. We will only reach that by perceiving life, and revolution as well, as a process, one in which steps are never skipped, one which requires, rather than avoidance and circumvention of human problems on the planetary level, a concrete dealing with, an acting out of those problems on this plane.

Reduced from jargon, that means that you can�t fight a war against �genocidal robot policemen� (as Leary termed them in his escape statement) by sitting on your ass constantly stoned on acid. You deal with those kinds of things by analyzing the situation and moving against repression with as much force as you can muster. (And if you ask me, it�s pretty fucking egotistical to presume that you can muster that much force by taking drugs. But that�s just me ... maybe.)

Leary needs a good course in political theory, after which he can drop all the acid he wants and he�ll still come up against the same brick wall: things are not going to change spontaneously, not on Earth. Instantaneous revolution doesn�t exist; nor is the revolution EVER over. It�s an ongoing process; you can call it life. To reduce human life to a mere chemical equation is to robotize the populous to as great an extent as the present regime. Liberation can only come through struggle on this plane, and Leary — and all of us to the extent that we believe that true liberation is easily and immediately accessible — must face up to that, if we are interested at all in liberating ourselves from our destructive, anti-life mentalities.

Now deep in the heart of a lonely kid Sufferin� so much for what he did

They gave for his trouble so much fortune and fame Since that day he ain�t been the same

See the man with the stage fright Just standin� up there givin� all his might And he got caught in the spotlight But when he gets to the end It�ll start all over again.

(Just to show you I still perceive synchronicity, that�s what came on the stereo when I was typing the last paragraph.)

Dave Marsh

THE DRIFTERS Bill Millar

Studio Vista/November Books (Available only in England)

Check one box to indicate which statement is correct.

1. Ben E. King was lead singer on:

(a) less than 10 per cent of the Drifter�s records ( )

(b) some of the Drifter�s biggest hits ( )

2. Alan Freed renamed rhythm and

blues �rock �n� roll� because:

(a) he wanted to get the music away from a racial definition ( )

(b) he thought it would be more successful with the new name ( )

(c) he could more easily claim an association with it ( )

(d)he hoped to copyright the name and use it exclusively ( )

3. When writing about records it is useful to provide the label and catalogue number in parentheses after the song title because:

(a) it helps the reader try to trace the record ( )

(b) it reminds the reader that what he thinks of as art was just another product to the record company that released it ( )

(c) it shows how much the writer knows ( )

4. �White Christmas� by Clyde McPhatter and the Drifters made the Billboard Hot 100 in

(a) 1960 ( )

(b) 1955 ( )

(c) 1962 ( ) ,

Read Bill�s book to find out the answers. Then give yourself a point for every box you checked. All checks score one point, because all the statements are true.

There are probably 20 people across the United States who know as much or more about the Drifters than Bill Millar, and ten of them will sneer and, tell him he got eight facts wrong, but nevertheless this is the best book the Drifters are ever going to have written about them, and it could well be that no other group will get such a good one either.

As anybody knows who ever listened, the best Drifers records were the ones with Clyde McPhatter singing lead, and Bill, who listened and knows, has written the book from the point of view of a disenchanted Clyde McPhatter fan who becomes obsessively fascinated by the maneuvres and personnel changes it took to keep the group going after Clyde left.

The story is complicated and so is the book spinning off into discussions of other groups and singers and styles and phenomena as they become relevant (or intriguing, since relevance isn�t always possible).

The Drifters is like a manual for anybody who plans to organize one of those revival shows, and a programme for anybody who plans to go to one, offering information you wouldn�t expect anybody to have, certainly not if he lives in London, as Bill does. But on page 95 you�ll find a picture of him, pen in hand, writing down biographical information about a member of the In vitations, who toured Britain as �The Original Drifters.� Scattered through the other pages are pictures of Atlantic labels, reviews from 1954 issues of Cashbox, and photos of almost everybody who ever worked on a session with the Drifters. As an appendix, Bill pro vides session details of every record by the group.

It is probably true that the book will not be very useful as an introduction to the Drifters, if you�ve never heard of their records, or cared much for them. But for anybody who has heard them and liked enough to be a little curious, this will surely be a fascinating history/scrap-book, which keeps very truly to the devotion that vocal group lovers have for their idols.

Charlie Gillett

THE ROLLING STONE RECORD REVIEW The Editors of Rolling Stone Pocket Books

How did such an absurd, disordered and distasteful book ever come to be? AS the original editor (later fired) of the Roiling Stone Record Review, I think I may have something to say on the matter. I was there when this literary abortion was committed and saw how the unhappy deed was done.

About a year ago Alan Rinzler, publisher of Rolling Stone's book division, asked me if I would like to edit a collection of Rolling Stone record reviews. Rinzler explained that he�d gotten a bundle of money from an East Coast publisher and had to get the thing out in a hurry.

My first response was one of bewildered amusement. �A book of record reviews?� I laughed. �Who�d want to read a bunch of two or three-year-old rock reviews?� I�ve always believed that reviews, like news stories, have a very short term interest and are certainly not the kind of thing one wants preserved for posterity in book form.

As I thought about the matter a while longer, however, my mind began to change. I recalled that a number of very good writers had done some excellent works of music criticism for Rolling Stone over the years. Perhaps it would not be such a bad idea to put together a book of their most interesting thoughts, perceptions and conclusions. Added to this was another important consideration — what if someone with a really vulgar frame of mind should get ahold of the fine reviews of Greil Marcus, J. R. Young, Ed Ward, Lester Bangs, John Mendelsohn and the others and shovel them into a confused hodge-podge? The more I thought about it, the more likely this possibility seemed.

I finally told Mr. Rinzler that I�d be happy to edit the book if I could have full control over its shape and content. He agreed to this arrangement and I eagerly set to work on a book which

would be guided by two principles. First of all, it would contain only the best writings of the authors re-printed. Dull reviews would not be included, even if they covered important groups and records. Second, the edition would treat the whole matter of music criticism with a delicate and humorous touch, avoiding any heavy-handed or pretentious claims for rock reviewers. I thought it best to present the various pieces in a very mild and soft light and let them stand by themselves.

When the job was finished I took the manuscript to Rinzler who read it and expressed his approval. A couple of days later I returned to the Rolling Stone offices only to find that the editor himself, Jann Wenner, had not liked my version and was now �doing it himself.� As I stood watching in amazement, two secretaries sat at their desks cutting and pasting as fast as their fingers could carry them. In a matter of minutes, several hundred reviews were thrown together in a large heep. �Oh, my god, they�ve really done it,� I said to myself and hurriedly left the scene of the crime.

The evidence is now available for all to see. What could have been a very interesting volume is now a cut and paste number done with little care for the integrity of the authors or the intelligence of the readers. �Make a big book for �em. Print everything! Remember, it�s quantity over quality� — this is the kind of mentality that determined the book�s content. You will find no guiding theme here, no attention to balance, order or good taste. Many truly distinguished pieces of writing from Rolling Stone's review section were left out (because the artists weren�t big time rock and roll), while dozens of reviews which would have been left for compost are prominently displayed. Some of the pieces were published over the expressed objections of their authors. The introductory remarks placed before each of the �chapters� range from silliness to pure idiocy. But, then, what can you expect from a book that was thrown together in a single afternoon?

For me the Rolling Stone Record Review stands as a sorry example of what can happen when a hopeful new enterprise squanders its trust. The problem is not so much that the work of some good young writers has been used without their permission in a totally artless manner, with very little payment. It is instead that a once honest, vital and significant magazine of this generation has devolved into a factory for the mass production of dishonest, inauthentic but highly commercial pap.

Perhaps I�m just too optimistic about the creative possibilities for any enter-

prise which, among other things, tries to make a profit. But I cannot help feeling that in following its present course, Rolling Stone has betrayed the conscience of this generation. The magazine, no longer seeks to enrich and extend the spirit of those who have turned to rock and roll as a source of something new, something better. Instead, it sees that spirit as a mere commodity to be exploited and merchandised.

Of course. Rolling Stone is not alone in this sad drift of events. Everywhere I look these days I see ghosts of the lost vision walking about and looking quite healthy. At such moments I recall the words of an old message for those who found the light, but allowed it to go out:

Ye are the salt of the earth; but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it be salted?

(St. Matthew 5:13)

Langdon Winner

(After we received the above we decided to ask Rolling Stone editor Jann Wenner if he cared to reply, primarily because Rolling Stone is a little too much like easy pickin�s these days, for all and sundry. Herewith is Wenner�s reply.)

Thanks for sending me Langdon�s piece and offering me the chance to comment on it. Langdon is obviously still pissed that we rejected his proposed edit of the collected record reviews, and that rejection has enhanced his memories of that episode and given them a drama that is really great. Unfortunately this, and Langdon�s high view of his own importance (while at the same time himself �avoiding any heavy-handed or pretentious claims for rock reviewers�) have carried him into realms of fancy and �heaviness� whereby he can witness such scenes as �secretaries at their desks cutting and pasting as fast as their fingers could carry them� till the point when he �hurriedly left the scene of the crime.�

Langdon obviously dislikes the book as it was published but fails to offer any concrete reasons why, other than the fact that it wasn�t his version (for which he got well paid!) His comments like �what can you expect from a book that was thrown together in a single afternoon?� are simply untrue.

His further opinions of Rolling Stone and whether we are now or not or ever have been the �conscience of this generation� are, like his review, colored by his own anger and rejection. They just don�t seem worth seriously considering. Best,

Jann Wenner