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Versione 1
Rating: Madman, the madman runs through the fields.
Which fields?
The strawberry fields.
And Bambi?
Bambi is in the woods minding his own business...
...
London, 1967...
The spaceship has landed for a while...
Before touching down, the two aliens smear a thin layer of death on themselves.
“Down here everything is turned off”
“Off and grayish.”
For the olfactory system, that layer is like a pinprick, but there's no other way: a bombshell from the stars and an intergalactic jerk would stand out too much.
“What the hell of a place, Aries”
“Well, Sagittarius, what did you expect?”
Sagittarius? Aries?
I don't know why, but "A for Andromeda," an old crush of mine, comes to mind...
“And anyway...”
“And anyway?”
“Did anyone tell these two that we are in the middle of the summer of love?”
“No”
“No?”
….
“Tu quoque Zoot fili me.”
Yeah, because even Zoot has become psychic.
Psychic?
IMPOSSIBLE!!!!
And yet, yes, he's started making out-of-tune songs.
But how, he who ignited the clubs with that mix of soul, jazz, R&B... he who was all Ray Charles, all James Brown... he who took his name from Zoot Sims, a jazz saxophonist... him, with that face that's hard to believe?
Come on!!!
It's that guitarist's fault, I think. He's someone with sharp ears and has noticed that there are only floral girls around.
All those Lucys, all those Emilys...
Not to mention Jenny, and Jenny is someone who babbles on... Things like "how can I, a damsel, repay the musicians for having freed my mind?"
Well, there's always a way...
And anyway, come on, even the Stones did the same, I mean the Stones!!! Damn, they were the "in doubt, hit" type and now they sing about rainbow girls or melancholic ruby-colored memories.
After all, what does it take to become psychic? Nothing, it takes nothing. Just four or five moves, at most six.
(One) Get rid of sax and company. (Two) Find an esoteric name. (Three) Make sure the guitarist learns to play the sitar. (Four) Come up with some crazy idea like dressing all in white. (Five) Get shot with psychedelic lights. (Six) Drop acid.
Then if you write a song like "Madman" it's even better....
"Madman" The voice is still soul R&B, and how could it be otherwise, but, damn, feel the hypnotic rhythm, feel the acid organ, feel that guitar, feel those pastoral interludes...
The track tells the acid trip up and down and is a perfect mix of schizophrenia. A dissonant thing, indeed very dissonant, but with a great groove. In short, a bomb...
The B-side is a minor delight, and that should suffice...
Then summer ends and the cold comes, people put on raincoats over their caftans and goodbye floral uniform.
Not to mention that if you go outside London, they look at you sideways, those are places where “in doubt, hit” is still the number one rule. Remember that time in Scotland when to avoid a beating you started playing traditionals? Well, that time the only truly psychedelic thing was that damn starry sky.
And so enough. Enough being psychic. Back to home.
...
Meanwhile, Sagittarius and Aries dive headfirst into the summer of love. More than "milk or lemon." More than fruit hats.
Here comes Mary instead, here comes Mr. Infinite Kiss. Here comes the magic waiter, here comes the gang of flowered clogs.
Too bad it's not true. It's just a film, a stupid underground musical with a killer soundtrack: Dantalian's Chariot, Blossom Toes, Idles Race, or rather rare and precious figures of the 67's Panini psychic edition, got it, missing.
Missing, got it.
Today the film is impossible to find, not a single frame. And it's really a shame, also because playing Sagittarius is our Zoot.
And seeing him turned into a psychic alien would be priceless.
Trallalla...
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