Remember growing up in the early 70's in the Berkshires? Your parents would drag you out to those all-night parties on the farm with their artist friends? They would tell you that this wasn't the kind of candy you could eat even though they were obviously passing sugar cubes around the table. Strangers would beckon you, saying that time doesn't exist here. They would casually assert that transcendental meditation saved their life in Fez. They would dance in a wild arhythmic fashion, falling, bodies writhing on the floor in a mass of discombobulated flesh. You, being tired and confused, would find your way to the spare bedroom, which had become a temporary coat room, and pass out on the pile of jackets splayed haphazardly across the bed. The only thing you wish you would remember from that night was the music playing on the stereo, that African band who had stolen R&B and psychedelia back from the white man. From what you recall, they were the party.
Buy this record so time will fold in on itself.