Voodoo Chile November 13, 2009Posted by Mark Folse in cryptic envelopment, Dancing Bear, Odds&Sods, Toulouse Street.
Driving down Veterans Highway through Metairie after two beers at lunch, on the uncertain foundation of Vietnamese soup, Electric Ladyland seemed an odd choice to pop into the CD player. Its something we would have listened to cruising after lunch with a joint back at De La Salle. Once it started I found my hand uncontrollably snaking out to the volume knob until I finally cranked up the windows so people would stop staring, but I couldn’t help myself. There was something in Hendrix’s magic hands that demanded I raise the volume, and with every added decibel the euphoria of the moment was greater, a bad feedback loop of the sort that latches like crack onto the soft and susceptible parts of our brain. Rolling through the river of cars towards Lakeside Shopping Center I felt this incredible buzz, more than two beers could explain, the music awakening some hardwired residual psilocybin ecstasy left over from the Seventies. I seemed to hover somewhere over the traffic as if I were driving a monster truck and maybe a monster truck is the perfect analogy, my drive to crank the music louder and louder no different from the equally adolescent desire for a stupendous vehicle with a thundering mufflers but this was not some muddy hunter’s monster truck but a Voodoo Chile monster truck, riding those risers and tremendous tires out into the heart of the swamp to gather straw from alligator’s nests in the dark of the moon.