The spirit of psychedelia, the urge to pull aside the veil of waking reality and peer into the gulfs of mystery, continues to stir even as it manifests itself in different forms. Music has often been integral to the psychedelic experience. In the 1980s revival” bands looked backward to the ’60s for inspiration. That no one did it better than Plasticland is shown in Make Yourself a Happening Machine, an ample 30-song sampling of the Milwaukee band released earlier this year on Rykodisc. Happening Machine is comprised of many familiar gems, including “Office Skills” and “Her Decay,” and a couple of unreleased nuggets.
Plasticland flew higher than the paisley cadres of the day on the breadth of their knowledge of what had come before and their lurking sense that the future would not necessarily involve peace, love and understanding. Undulating waves of fuzztone guitar mingled and merged with elevated harmonies, power-drive bass, solid R&B drumming and the drone of harmonium and melotron to erect Byzantine basilicas of sound. British rock critic Nigel Cross put it well in his jacket notes for Happening Machine. “Plasticland were a true one-off whose mission shone like a day-glow beacon at the helm of their magic, swirling ship.” (Full disclosure: Cross also recounts an evening spent in long-ago London with Plasticland vocalist Glenn Rehse, the Pink Fairies Motorcycle Club and myself.)
With Plasticland, spotting the influences was a game that frustrated all but the most astute music historians. Forget about virtually any band that became popular in the States. Forget about the States. The American influence on Plasticland was an indirect echo of the American influence on Swinging London. Carnaby Street, not Haight-Ashbury, was Plasticland’s street of dreams, though if you listened closely, a hint of krautrock, the German psychedelic offshoot, could be discerned. Despite the playful splash of striped trousers and embroidered vests, the occasional presence of go-go booted dancers on stage shaking to the semaphore signal of a light show, the tone of Plasticland was often dark, paranoid, anxious.
Although their photograph once appeared in Rolling Stone, Plasticland has not received due credit. Rehse laughs. “I’ve been told I’ve had an influence on music, but my wallet has not shown any such influence.” The band’s John Frankovic adds: “The impact of Plasticland on the few who care has been precious.”
—David Luhrssen (www.shepherd-express.com).
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