How iconic psychedelic records of the 1960s unleash the transformative capacity of music to expand—and unhinge—the mind.
In the mid-Sixties, The Beatles abandoned live performance, complaining they could no longer hear themselves on stage. Obsessed with the latest records of Bob Dylan and Brian Wilson, and with imaginations fueled by weed and acid, they retired to the studio. With the help of their producers and engineers, the Beatles left a trail of novel recording practices, audio technologies, and records in their wake. But their realization that the act of listening to recorded sound was itself a means for altering consciousness may be the Beatles' most significant, though largely unacknowledged, contribution to psychedelia. The records of subsequent groups such as the 13th Floor Elevators, Pink Floyd, the Byrds, and Love further reveal how psychedelic music changes not just what we hear but how we listen.
In The Magic Circle, Trace Reddell threads accounts of his own psychedelic listening sessions into a hallucinatory tapestry of rock lore, drug literature, media studies, cognitive philosophy, and psychopharmacology. He builds on the pillars of psychedelic research—set (the user's mood, fears, expectations) and setting (physical surroundings, social and cultural contexts)—to argue for a third term, sonic substance, that emphasizes music's blending of mental and environmental influences. Proposing that the psychedelic record is a mind-manifesting drug, Reddell traces the effects of a magic circle—the feedback loop between the record and the listener—as it transforms culture, technology, and consciousness.
