SUBCULTURAL DISLOCATIONS
For more than two years between 2001 and 2004, I conducted participant-observation research among Goa trance scenes in Northern New South Wales, Australia, New York City and several locations in India. A one-off trance festival outside Lusaka, Zambia, provided an opportunity to spend a month following a group of forty international travellers on an overland, trance-themed tour from Cape Town to Lusaka. A persistent theme throughout my ethnographic research was the foundational role of Goa, India, as an almost mythic place of origins and pilgrimage site for so many trance music enthusiasts with whom I have spoken throughout my research in these locations. It was not until the end of my research in 2004 that my partner and I visited Goa for a winter season. Despite having collected narrative accounts, photos, film and video materials of the fabled origin of psychedelic trance culture for several years prior, I was unprepared for the rush of cosmopolitan psychedelic sociality and Royal Enfield motorcycles that still defined the holiday season, nearly two decades after the alleged heyday of psychedelic electronica parties on Goaâs northern beaches.
In Chapora village, just inland along the bay from Disco Valley, in a modest villa rented for the season, a circle of Danish and German party-goers and seasonal residents screen an independent German documentary, Last Hippie Standing, on a laptop computer. The DVD case is passed around and the filmâs subtitle, or epigramââGoa is not a place. Goa is a state of mind!ââis submitted for group consideration, receiving hearty approval. Most of these travellers had first come to Goa in the 1990s and are in their late-twenties and early-thirties when I meet them. Despite their neophyte status in the complex social ecology of the village, they acknowledge the changes witnessed through previous years: the steady growth of new resorts, hotels, beach shacks and restaurants. On the whole, they
remain committed to Goa and speak of their return the following year and of the intention among several to purchase a small inland Portuguese villa together. I struggle to make sense of their willingness to accept the statement that Goa is not, in all its complex geographical and social materiality, first and foremost, a place. And, further, one unlike any other. The young Dane who owns the movie and the computer speaks at some length later in the visit about the parties he organises in Copenhagen and also of his business ventures in Goa involving a gram of lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD) powder (approximately 10,000 standard doses) and his somewhat less-impressive stores of MDMA and mescaline, all brought from the Netherlands. When I inquire about the chief âexportââthe coveted hand-rolled hashish or the grey market pharmaceuticals I have watched him stockpile piecemealâhe turns on me in anger, perhaps finally pushed to the point of frustration by the nosiness of the aspiring anthropologist heâs regrettably invited into his circle: âDonât you get it? Itâs not about that! If itâs all this import, export, business, business, you donât know what is Goa. We told you, itâs consciousness, itâs a state of mind ⊠not all this!â
David Harvey, one of the more widely read and cited of commentators on the era of post-Fordist âflexibleâ strategies in global capital, has offered some general observations on the plight of social movements whose inability to transcend space results in the commodification of identity and tradition. It is difficult, he opines, for place-bound identities âto maintain any sense of historical continuity in the face of all the flux and ephemerality of flexible accumulationâ (Harvey 1989: 303). In considering Appaduraiâs provocative suggestion that physical uprootedness from homelandsâ âdeterritorializationâ (pace Deleuze and Guattari 1987)âresults in the production of locality as âstructures of feelingâ (Williams 1977: 128â135), this chapter aims to outline the flexible and ephemeral relationships to homelands that have defined countercultural production since the late-1960s. More specifically, Harveyâs broad assertions about the difficulties of maintaining space-bound social identifications in the era of post-Fordist accumulation strategies is assessed via two brief historical case studies in the rise and fall of alternative culture-making in San Francisco and the newly liberated Portuguese colony of Goa, Indiaâeasily the two most significant sites for the proliferation of international psytrance scenes.
PSYCHEDELIC PRECEDENTS: THE SUBCULTURAL LIFE-CYCLE OF HAIGHTâASHBURY
For many nostalgic or critical commentators, the rise and fall of locations like Goa and HaightâAshbury have turned on the performative efficacy of marketing and journalism neologisms for emergent subcultural and musical genres. A 1952 New York Times article, âThis is the Beat Generationâ by John Clellon Holmes, turned a Kerouac reference into an epithet for popular consumption. Unlike those of the preceding âLost Generationâ, who were âoccupied with the loss of faithâ, Holmes argued, the youth of the 1940s were âbecoming more and more occupied with the need for itâ. If generations could be defined in newspaper headlines, countercultures could be circumscribed by a neologism just as easily. The 1960s had more than its share to work with. Where âbeatsâ had given way to âhippiesâ, sometimes seamlessly, as in the charismatic figure of Allen Ginsberg, it was in many ways psychiatrist Humphry Osmondâs âpsychedelicâ that proved to be the most enduring designator for the new countercultural generation, particularly in the hands of Harvard psychologist turned psychedelic proselytiser, Tim Leary, who, with colleagues, Metzner and Alpert, offered the first manual and guidebook to LSD use in 1964, with Psychedelic Experience: A Manual Based on the Tibetan Book of the Dead.
In 1965 the first mass protest against the Vietnam War brought Berkeley, California, to the fore as a hotbed of student-led communist agitation. Shortly thereafter, Ginsbergâs 20-point pamphlet poem, âHow to Make a March/Spectacleâ, appeared in an issue of Liberation, making explicit the aims and methods of a new brand of protest that would include loving entreaties to soldiers and police, music, dance, pantomime and the ever-present flowers (Ginsberg 1966). The years that followed made clearer the divergence of the hippies, centred in the HaightâAshbury district of San Francisco, from the more militant student factions: Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) and the Berkeley Free Speech Movement, both of which associated with the British New Left and were likely to perceive flower-power as part of the âend-of ideologyâ cant circulated by chief hippie ideologue Norman Brown (see Roszak 1969).
If an ethos or ideology can be inferred from a reading list, the accounts of hippie literary predilections are worth briefly revisiting. One early journalist to interview many of the luminaries of HaightâAshbury reported that the hippies had internalised the rhetoric of Marshall McLuhan and were committed to art forms requiring âtotal involvementâ in the hope that the âcybernetic revolutionâ would make all men artists (Wolf 1968: xxix). A Luddite strain has always characterised American psychedelic countercultures, and McLuhan was just one of the diverse literary nodes in an informally canonised network of touchstones including Kahlil Gibranâs The Prophet, Ayn Randâs Fountainhead, Heinleinâs Stranger in a Strange Land and Aldous Huxleyâs mescaline-inspired Doors of Perception and psychedelic utopia novel, Island. Gary Snyder commented in a 1967 essay that those who could not travel to Asia but had great interests in its religious traditions got âgreat resultsâ from LSD: the great texts of Hinduism and Buddhism suddenly became clear (cited in Fields 2002).
In HaightâAshbury, the Avalon and the Fillmore ballrooms, the Oracle newspaper, the Psychedelic Shop, the I and Thou CafĂ© and the Diggers, (an artist and activist collective offering free food, clothing and ritual theatre), provided the musical, dramatic and social infrastructure necessary to galvanise the so-called hippie movement. Perhaps the greatest catalyst for the transformation to come, however, was the emerging festal form. In January of 1967, San Franciscoâs Golden Gate Park hosted a demonstration by several tens of thousands. With performances by The Grateful Dead and Quicksilver Messenger Service, among others, the âTribal Gathering for a Human Be-Inâ was radically different from the student demonstrations at Berkeley. Although the title âBe-Inâ evoked the civil rights movementâs âteach-insâ and âsit-insâ, it had clearly departed from the activist politics of the civil rights movement and the âOld Leftâ. The spirit of the event owed more to the dance-concert of the great San Francisco ballrooms or author Ken Keseyâs legendary Trips Festival or Acid Tests.
June of 1967 saw what was widely hailed as the first ever rock-and-roll festival. Held in the fishing village of Monterey, California, the Monterey Pop Festival launched the much publicised âsummer of loveâ that followed (see Selvin 1992). Estimates put 200,000 spectators at the non-profit festival, itself equally successful on several fronts. Questions about the theft of the festivalâs proceedsâearmarked for charityâlater arose, but the complete lack of arrests and the generally peaceful atmosphere that prevailed are frequently cited as the primary indications of the eventâs success. Behind the scenes, of course, success was measured in the signing of major record contracts by The Who, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and others who catalyzed the âSan Francisco soundâ for the music industry. Compared to this new formation of harder âpsychedelicâ rock that was to dominate the charts internationally in the years to come, McKenzieâs folk ballad, âSan Franciscoâ (be sure to wear flowers in your hair), written by Phillips to promote the festival, became almost immediately a nostalgic signifier of an already fading social moment in which blues, folk and rock all shared in the vaunted psychedelic experience.
With the formula for the ârevolutionary festivalâ in place and LSDâs mass production by underground chemist Owsley Stanley, the celebratory rituals involving nonviolent protest qua joyous celebration and pageantry were loosed upon the nation. Downtown Manhattanâs Tompkins Square Park emerged in mid-1967 as a place of assembly, and protests later that year were to display their debt to the Be-In and the ballroom dance-concert, as well as to Ginsbergâs flower-powered demonstrations.
In HaightâAshbury that autumn, drug raids marked the end of the summer long love-in, prompting U.S. News and World Report (October 23) to ask whether âthe whole hippie movement may turn out to have been just another fadâ (cited in Wolf 1968: 268â269). Little more than two years after San Francisco newspaper journalists popularised the âhippieâ epithet, the movement already appeared in need of a proper eulogy. The day the Psychedelic Shop in HaightâAshbury closed its doors was marked by a funeral parade commemorating the âdeath of the Hippieâ. The Diggersâs Free City street sheet from October 6, 1967, opened with the accusatory headline, âMEDIA CREATED THE HIPPIE WITH YOUR HUNGRY CONSENTâ. Emmett Grogan, co-founder of the Diggers, would later comment: âIt was the media coverage of the Human Be-In that destroyed the spirit of HaightâAshbury. The publicity precipitated a massive statewide migration of Americaâs runaways, outcasts and outlaws, and with them the heavy drugs, speed especially. That was the beginning of the endâ (cited in Law 1987: 57).
If HaightâAshbury was a critical crossroads and an irrefutable place of origins, it was ultimately an expendable one. By the time the Woodstock festival was held, many insiders ceased to identify with the hippie âmovementâ, which increasingly appeared to early insiders as a co-opted semiotic cluster, a constellation of commodifiable catch-phrases, hem-lines and conventionalised understandings of what made rockâand-roll psychedelic. Yet, it is naĂŻve to imagine that âhippieâ, as an authentic set of cultural practices and orientations, died with the social infrastructure and integrity of HaightâAshbury. What had clearly ended, however, was a period of intense culture-making during which experimentation in large-scale music events successfully resulted in a form of group participation that might easily transcend its attachments to particular placesâhere, the ballrooms, parks and a network of cafes, stores and local charities in San Francisco. While the trappings of the flower children were recycled as the latest youth trend, those with the means departed for destinations where ecstatic states of spiritual, artistic and sexual fulfilment could be experienced without the disruption of daily televised war coverage and prurient media attention. For Ginsberg, Leary, Metzer, Alpert, The Beatles and the countless international travellers who had in some way been touched by the events of the late-1960s, the obvious choice for such a departure was India.