[Verse 1]
Everything you see around you
Runs on clocks and moving hands
Moments falling into moments
Like footprints in the sand
News and noise and restless motion
All the dramas of the day
But somewhere underneath the surface
There’s another hidden way Continue reading
this is not a suggestion. Here’s the lyrics to the variations in English — there are variations in other languages as well, which you will hear at the zoom meeting this morning. Looking forward to seeing you there! Continue reading
There’s something going on in the work we’ve been doing that deserves a name, because once you see it, you can use it deliberately.
For years, people have tried to build better habits using willpower, affirmations, or discipline. Sometimes it works, often it doesn’t. The reason is simple: most of those methods stay up in the thinking layer. They don’t reach the level where behavior actually forms.
What we’re working with now goes deeper. Continue reading
Hot Night in Hell isn’t a single song—it’s a sequence. A chain of pieces that link together into one continuous experience.
And when you hear it in acid-band format, something very specific happens.
It becomes a river journey. Continue reading
(or: When the Chorus Knows Too Much)
There comes a point—usually around version twenty-three—when you begin to suspect that the song is no longer just a song.
It’s watching you. Continue reading
what we’re doing here isn’t repeating a song, it’s refracting it
think of a single song as a beam of light passing through a prism. the original structure—the melody, the words, the underlying idea—that’s the white light. but once it passes through different arrangements, it splits into colors. each version reveals a different aspect of the same thing.
now here’s the part that matters: Continue reading
Natasha the Acid Queen did not arrive in San Francisco so much as appear there. By the time anyone noticed her in the Haight-Ashbury district in 1966, she already seemed established, as if she had been there all along, moving quietly through the streets, barefoot, dressed in flowing fabrics that caught the light like stained glass. Continue reading
This morning started the usual way—a huge stack of song variations waiting to be reviewed and rated. Fifty, sixty versions of the same piece. Different bands, different arrangements, different emotional temperatures. On the surface, it might look like excess. Continue reading
I took my troubles way beyond the grave,
I wasn’t feeling very tough or brave,
I sold my potions on Hollywood and Vine
And there I was at
Bardo Station Number Nine. Continue reading
Tommy Steele – lead guitar
Tommy was the architect of the band’s sonic storms. His guitar lines didn’t just solo—they spiraled, bending blues roots into something strange and electric. Quiet, intense, and always listening, he was the guy who could turn a simple riff into a ten-minute journey nobody forgot. Continue reading