GeoHrey Cannon
THE AGE OF AQUARIUS
Once upon a time, before the mode of the music changed,
rock singers aspired to quiver little girls' loins. Now, in 1968, the game
had a bigger name. Dylan knew it already, retired to his house at
Woodstock, furled in elemental rumor, circulating muffled tapes in
semisecret. Would his clear voice (let alone his public presence) be
too strong; or were events too strong for him? He chose not to
answer. Meanwhile, city walls shook; and politicians became para–
noid. For the sensed question was: had the time of the nameless idea
come? (Nameless: German student spokesman - "We have no pro–
gram. The revolution is the program.")
So; who, among the heroes, would find the pressure and the
speed intolerable, as Kesey did? And who would stand? Did you
think it an accident that posters of Che Guevara and Ho Chi Minh
are thumbtacked side by side with John Lennon and Mick Jagger?
In 1968 the kids were on the streets, discovering what being serious
meant. And they looked for a lead from the owners of the faces on
the posters on their walls. It was no longer fun to be a superstar. The
aura had become politicized. For Acid-Test graduates, the barri–
cades were up. Hippies became yippies, and risked their heads.
Two further pressures on the Beatles and the Stones. First, dope
busts. Brian Jones, ashen and alone in court, was, no doubt of
it,
an effective deterrent to public people adopting a blatantly dope–
based life-style. And, whether or not "Lucy in the Sky with Dia–
monds" (etc., etc.) and "open our heads and the pictures come"
(etc., etc.) had anything to do with dope, the police were briefed
that it did, and that the Beatles and the Stones were Inciting; the
bands knew of such briefings, and so became paranoid: and, of
