vanityfair | When I first came out to L.A. [in 1968], my friend [photographer]
Joel Bernstein found an old book in a flea market that said: Ask
anyone in America where the craziest people live and they’ll tell you
California. Ask anyone in California where the craziest people live
and they’ll say Los Angeles. Ask anyone in Los Angeles where the
craziest people live and they’ll tell you Hollywood. Ask anyone in
Hollywood where the craziest people live and they’ll say Laurel
Canyon. And ask anyone in Laurel Canyon where the craziest people live
and they’ll say Lookout Mountain. So I bought a house on Lookout
Mountain. —Joni Mitchell
jaysanalysis | It seems more and more as if we are living in a bad B movie, replete
with cheesy set pieces and a Casio keyboard score – and the reason for
that is because we are. We have focused on Hollywood and propaganda
often at JaysAnalysis, but we have not looked at the music industry,
aside from brief mentions and a few shows. When it comes to the score
for that B movie we all live in, the best analysis I’ve read in a good
while is none other than recently deceased Dave McGowan’s excellent
work, Weird Scenes Inside the Canyon: Laurel Canyon, Covert Ops & the Dark Heart of the Hippie Dream. I also have the honor of Amazon classing my book, Esoteric Hollywood,
with McGowan’s, in the “readers also purchased” section. I get emails
on daily basis requesting book recommendations (which is much harder to
choose than you’d expect), so I think for the spirit of my site, no
better book could be suggested for a reading list than Weird Scenes (aside from my own book, of course).
McGowan’s thesis is simple: The 1960s counter-culture movement was
not what it appeared to be. In a purple haze of pot smoke, free love,
booze and LSD tabs, the fog of the 60s is believed by most baby-boomers
to be a genuine (monstrous for faux conservatives) reaction
against the system. From student protests to politically active
musicians, the anti-war, anti-establishment ethos of the 60s was, so the
story goes, a natural, organic reaction to a hawkish, greedy corporate
demon, embodied in “the man,” opposed by all those revolutionaries who
love freedom, expressing themselves in the “arts.” After reading
McGowan’s analysis (a self-confessed fan of this era), it would appear
the mainstream view is only slightly correct – some artists were
political and genuinely anti-establishment, but the big names, and the
movements as a whole, were promoted and directed by design, for
large-scale social engineering.
McGowan begins his argumentation by pointing to Jim Morrison’s
father, Navy Admiral George Stephen Morrison, who played a central role
in the Gulf of Tonkin’s false flag event. Morrison, curiously, avoided
this association, stating his parents were dead, adding fuel to his
mythical narrative of having no musical training and supposedly becoming
a musical shaman following ghostly encounters and hallucinogenic trips.
While some of that may have been the case (such as the trips and
witchcraft initiation, for example, as shown in Oliver Stone’s The Doors),
the real story is likely much closer to McGowan’s analysis – Morrison
was promoted and made into an icon by the system because of these high
level connections. However, being well-connected was not the only
explanation – the establishment had a specific motive of derailing any
legitimate anti-war activism or artwork, as well as moving the culture
into a more degenerate state for social engineering.
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