In 1966, Donovan opened a gap in the sky: Sunshine Superman was born like a golden flash among the silence and silk of the clouds, Nembo Kid had a slender body and the smile of a gentle hippie.
The initial notes shine like honey-colored glass under the morning sun. The voice enters softly, like a feather recognizing its own wind.
Linda Lawrence is the fixed star behind every word. Silent muse, the Beatrice to Donovan. Invisible, ardent. Orbiting around every heartbeat.
The guitar slides on scales of crystal, the harpsichord dances among the clouds. Mickie Most conducts like a blindfolded alchemist, Jimmy Page plays as if caressing time.
Superman dematerializes, Clark Kent sheds cumbersome identities.
Only the light remains.
No clenched fist, only spells echoing through a thousand labyrinths. Around, the world rewinds in slow whiteness. Ginsberg smiles against the light, the Maharishi offers silence in porcelain cups. Mellow Yellow flows shortly after, among liquid laughter and the legend of the electrical banana—a fruit, a secret, a cosmic trick.
Even today, listening to Sunshine Superman is like diving into an acoustic constellation: each sound a star, each verse an ajar door to enchantment.
This album is a small masterpiece of completeness, alternating lysergic elements like the title track, 'The Trip' and the splendid 'Season of the Witch'.
With this work Donovan proved not to be just a mere clone of the much more famous Dylan, but rather an artist in his own right.