Plug music results from Atlanta street tapes bootlegged on peer-to-peer sharing sites like Limewire and Frostwire and hosting sites like Datpiff and LiveMixtapes. “It was built on traditional Atlanta. It was mixing traditional Atlanta with the internet age,” Benny adds. Taking inspiration from the elegance of Zaytoven’s piano work, Plug adds a pop spin jam-packed with explosive digitized synths and video game sound bites. 

Plug Motivation is Tony’s new project, 24-tracks of money hustling, designer flexing, and drugs come entirely produced by the most prolific producers of the plug sub-genre: Big Emm, Cashcache, DJ YoungKash, Fashion Kor, GameBoomin, IceWater Black, JBand$, Mexikodro, Polo Boy Shawty, Popstar Benny, StoopidXool, and Youngstill. Plug Motivation is hosted by DJ Yung Rell, returning the days of vintage Gucci Mane in ‘08. Tony carries the spirit of old Atlanta with tracks like “Dats Me” and “Work Like This.” Flutes and snares come together with dreamy synths on the latter, with Tony showing pride in his swag and coming clean about his “bad bitch problem.” The entirety of Plug Motivation was recorded in Tony’s kitchen, no fancy studio equipment required. Tony takes inspiration from Gucci Mane’s Bird Flu 2, Lil Wayne’s No Ceilings and Carter III projects, as well as Zelda: Breath of the Wild while making the tape.

He seems excited to talk about the making of Plug Motivation over our Zoom call. For High Times, Tony discusses plug music, its purpose, the songs of his new project, and the difference between mixtapes and albums in 2022. Throughout the call, he smokes Real1 & Metro Bloomin branded flower in a blunt, puffing between responses. 

High Times: Last week you just dropped Plug Motivation. When did you start recording that?

Tony Shhnow: I started recording what I felt as soon as I got off tour. Because Reflextions was damn near done when I got off tour. So Plug Motivation was definitely music I had fresh off tour trying to go into transition to the next project.

HT: Plug Motivation is a play on Jeezy’s Thug Motivation. What made you want to use that as the theme?

Tony Shhnow: Well, Mexikodro came up with the title. I got to attest that to him. I just applied my own style to it. I applied the theme to it. He picked the title and I just made it, I brought it to life.

HT: What I like about the tape a lot is that it brings back that old ATL mixtape aesthetic. What’s the difference now between a mixtape and an album? And I feel like Plug Motivation distinguishes that.

Tony Shhnow: For sure. I feel like a mixtape is raw music. It’s raw. It’s not really looking to be polished type shit. It can be, it’s music recorded in a kitchen or it can be in the trap. It could be, it’s something that it’s not meant to be pop or be on the billboards, necessarily. I’m not looking to be on the radio. I’m looking to be in the trap. I’m looking to be in the streets. It’s not a project aimed to please the average listener. Mixtapes aren’t aimed to please your fans. That’s what I feel like the major difference is.

HT: You also dropped the ShadowBanned mixtape before Plug Motivation. Rappers don’t do that anymore where they rap on each other’s beats for a whole project. It’s a lost art. 

Tony Shhnow: Yeah. That’s why… It’s hip hop to me though. That’s why I did the BBC project. I ain’t going to lie to you. I’ve been one to do the rapping on other people’s beats that were my peers. But I felt like I had to wait a second until it was the right moment. And right now I feel like it was definitely a good moment to do it.

HT: Do you think this whole streaming era ruined the identity of mixtapes nowadays?

Tony Shhnow: Yeah. It did a little bit. It did a little bit. But I still feel like there’s a space for it. I feel like just people have to, we got to adapt to it type shit. You don’t really see the premier artists doing that. People, the rap game normally imitates whatever the premier artist is doing at the time type shit. At the time when Lil Wayne did that, Tyga was doing that or Jacquees was doing that or Young Dro was doing that. It was multiple artists doing that at a time. But you don’t see the premier artists, which is Drake or Kendrick or J. Cole, you don’t see them doing that. They’re not going to imitate it.

HT: What is the big significance of having someone host your mixtapes? Because DJ Yung Rell hosted a few of your tapes.

Tony Shhnow: Yeah. I feel like that role is a lost art form in hip hop. So it’s important to me to keep pushing him or keep pushing that narrative type shit because I feel like hip hop needs that. That’s what I grew up on. That’s what a lot of these kids don’t get to see. You know what I mean? It’s almost like a narrator.

HT: I think it definitely is a lost art form because you don’t hear DJ Scream or Evil Empire as often anymore.

Tony Shhnow: Because a lot of them guys that’s older, they’re successful as fuck now, they not doing it no more, they just successful as fuck. So they don’t have time to do it. They changed ventures. They might have a label now or they might have a clothing line now. They just aren’t into it. Because like I said before to go back into the main, nobody’s calling them to come do something. You feel me? Tyler was the last big dude I saw doing it.

HT: On Plug Motivation, you kept the sound with strictly plug producers. So why’d you keep it so inclusive? What inspired that?

Tony Shhnow: I was already planning on making a plug project. Nah. When ‘Dro gave me that title, I feel like I had to keep it true to being plug. I had to keep it true to that. I feel like it’s a misconception about plug music. I just made the project to clarify what it is. I even used the old plug. I tried to show y’all exactly what plug was and what plug is now.

HT: How important was it to get everyone’s contributions for this project?

Tony Shhnow: I feel like it was very important on the producer end to make sure I tapped in what each producer that was a part of the Beats Plugs type shit and as far as the new culture. I feel like I can do the rapping. So I leave everything else to them, I try to make sure I work with the best producers, or the best DJ, the best director.

HT: One of my favorite songs is “Hell’s Hot” because I never heard you so angry before. Why were you so mad?

Tony Shhnow: I was dealing with this girl and really, it was a response to her. She just text me, “Hell is hot. I hope you burn, nigga.” I was like, “All right. Bitch, fuck you.

HT: That’s a mean text.

Tony Shhnow: On God. So I responded. I just use music as my therapy sometimes. So that’s just what that was. I honestly didn’t even know I was going to keep that song. People just started liking it.

HT: Based off the few drill songs you have on the ShadowBanned mixtape, how do you feel about drill music and how do you feel about the culture?

Tony Shhnow: It’s cool. I like it a little bit. I ain’t going to lie to you like I’m a super big fan of it because I’m not really into rap that talks too much about guns or violence type shit. I’m just super not heavy on it. The drill wave in Chicago was cool to me but I didn’t look at it that much. I just ain’t, I’m more of a fan of just player music. Talking about getting money or smoking weed. I like Wiz Khalifa and Curren$y or Lil Wayne. I like Gucci but I don’t like his songs when he talking about just shooting shit up all the time.

HT: That’s understandable. I can tell you’re on the fence with drill music.

Tony Shhnow: Yeah. I’m like, eh. Like I said I want to do it but just a little more player. I really fuck with, I fuck with, what’s that dude name? Damn, what’s that dude name? They dropped the Too Slizzy Too Sexy tape.

HT: Cash Cobain and Chow Lee.

Tony Shhnow: Yeah, bro. I’m fucking with them. Something that make the hoes move. Don’t get me wrong. The drill shit is cool. But I like the songs that the hoes get to moving with the girls. You know what I mean? I want girls to dance. I don’t want to shoot; I don’t have a stand-off [laughs].

The post Tony Shhnow Makes Getting Money Music appeared first on High Times.

But we failed, and so there we were sitting in our rental car in the parking lot, listening to the show on the radio. There was only one word for our collective state: bummed. I decided to confess.

“I probably should have told you that I generally don’t have very good luck on New Year’s. In fact, I have a history of bad New Year’s Eves—ever since the parties we had. Those were the best New Year’s Eves.” (Ed and I grew up together in New York. We threw a series of deranged New Year’s parties when we were in college.)

“You’ve had bad New Year’s Eves since?” Ed asked.

“Ever since,” I said. Ed couldn’t hold back a big laugh. “Can’t remember a good one.” And he laughed again.

“Since you were 17?”

“Right. Forgot to tell you that.”

“Now you tell me.”

We didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I came up with the plan to hop the airbus and join our Deadhead family in Mecca for the New Year’s shows. Ed immediately fired out a money order for tickets. I called another friend who lives in the Bay Area and asked him to make ticket inquiries on our behalf. Then I went to HIGH TIMES editor Steve Hager and suggested the magazine send me out to California to cover the shows. “Got tickets?” Hager wondered. “Not yet,” I said. “We’re taking care of that. Don’t worry.”

Ed’s ticket request came back empty, but my friend was able to score a pair for the Friday night show. (New Year’s Eve was Monday.) We were in. We were booked.

Friday morning, December 28, Ed and I took off for Cali. It had snowed pretty heavily the night before, but the runway was clear. We landed in Oaktown three hours before showtime. It didn’t take long for us to run into the hemp folks on the vending lot—Jack Herer in one corner, Cannabis Action Network in the other, both doing their own thing.

The highlight of a rather laid-back show was “China Cat Sunflower,” which opened the second set (amazingly, Maria and Rick of CAN both predicted this would happen). We hung out in the hallways with the space dancers and spinners, with children and their folks at a makeshift Rainbow-style Kid Village. The mellowness—quite a change from East Coast harshness—was contagious.

The news that Branford Marsalis—the brilliant jazz saxophonist who guested with the Dead in April ’90-would be opening the New Year’s show topped off our heady day. I’ll keep this story short. A few years back, I interviewed Branford for an article about his more-famous brother, Wynton.

Since then we’ve become friends, chatting at Knicks games, even throwing a football around one Saturday afternoon in Brooklyn. When I heard Branford was in town, I figured I was in. Miracles do happen.

The next day, I tracked Branford down at a nearby jazz club where his quartet was jamming nightly. After staring at me quizzically (like, “What the hell are you doing here?”), he asked, “What’s wrong with the Knicks, man?” In between sets, Branford explained that “Dark Star” is his favorite Dead song and the main thing he likes about the Dead is “their vibe.”

About the upcoming New Year’s gig, Branford told me, “We go on sometime around eight. Other than that, I don’t know jack. I think I’m playing with [the Dead]; It’s up to the cats.” Would Branford be my miracle passage into the Coliseum?

“It’s gonna be tight,” he cautioned. “I’ll help you if I can. If I can’t….”

On New Year’s Eve day, Ed and I visited HIGH TIMES’ Guru of Ganja, Ed Rosenthal, who lives in Oakland.

He gave us a tour of his magical cactus garden and some words of advice about attending New Year’s shows without tickets. “I won’t do it,” he said. “It’s too depressing if you don’t get in.” What bothered me as we searched for the freeway was if the Guru of Ganja couldn’t cop a New Year’s ticket, what made us think we could?

We had two plans: The Branford plan, and another that involved hooking up with Brett, a friend’s brother who had promised me his spare ticket. Both fell through. Apparently, I didn’t make Branford’s ticket cut. Adding insult to injury, Denis McNally, the Dead’s publicist, scolded me for relying on a musician for tickets. “There isn’t a spare ticket in the house,” he said, walking away. As far as the other plan was concerned, we never did find Brett.

Depression quickly overcame us. Slowly, we walked back to the lot, where thousands of ’heads were celebrating the beginning of the show. Suddenly, it dawned on me that we weren’t exactly going to miss the concert. Every colorful car, van and bus in the lot was tuned to KPFA, the local station broadcasting live New Year’s Dead to the entire country and probably a few others. The squeak of Branford’s soprano sax tweaked my brain. We walked on.

There was only one way to salvage the situation: acid and burritos. We surveyed the lot, checking for the familiar sight of Lee’s double-decker, veggie-chow wagon. It didn’t take long to spot it. Lee, Keith and others inside were partying hard. They invited us in (we stayed for most of the night). As the seven-hour show progressed, we drew solace from the ’heads around us. They too had been shut out, but “bummed” and “depression” didn’t seem part of their vocabulary—at least, not on this special night. We banded together—as those inside undoubtedly were doing—raising our spirits to rare heights.

The music certainly helped. After a surprising electric set that featured guitarist Robin Eubanks, Branford joined Jerry, Bobby, Phil, Bruce, Vince, Mickey, Bill and guest drummer Olatunji for two spectacular sets. “Eyes of the World,” “Dark Star,”

“Drums,” “Space,” “The Other One,” “Not Fade Away” (great tribal dance/chant, closed the show), “The Weight,” “Johnny B. Goode” (encores). Jerry, Phil, Branford and Bruce got lost in the stars, improvising most of the night. An unwieldy, complicated fusion of styles, New Year’s Dead reveled in the past, present and future. It left me hopeful that this sort of musical summit can happen more than once a year.

But I still wished we’d gotten in. The CAN crew didn’t even bother trying; they went to the Red Hot Chili Peppers show in San Francisco instead. Now I know that acquiring New Year’s Dead tickets takes almost fanatical advance planning. There’s something painfully democratic about having to compete for tickets like everyone else. If only I’d listened to ticket maven David, who advised me to start scouting for tix the moment we touched down in Oakland….

Well, that’s all bongwater under the wharf now. Wish me better luck next year. Even if it is New Year’s Eve. 

Read the full issue here.

The post From the Archives: New Year’s Dead (1991) appeared first on High Times.

While it could be easy to get overwhelmed by all of the events going on during Art Basel, it was a no-brainer to clear my schedule for a night out at SkateBird, who converted their skatepark into a full-blown concert venue featuring performances from none other than The Yutes and stoner rap legend Curren$y—courtesy of Clockwork Music. I knew that this was my chance to link up with The Yutes and get them really really high. 

On my way out of town, I wanted to make sure I had some official New York pack on me, so I stopped by The Astor Club and grabbed a few 8ths of the Sour Power for me, and a couple Sheist Bubz to gift to The Yutes. I also snatched a Punch Bar for my flight. After consuming a combination of my goodies, I arrived at the airport feeling like I could float to Florida without the plane. 

Somehow, I made it to Miami and the mission was to head straight to the show. I arrived, rolled up some of the Sour Power, and proceeded to find The Yutes and hand over the packs I brought them. We chopped it up, then immediately started to Chong out in their green room. Upon venturing out, we realized that there was a whole other cannabis pop-up event upstairs at SkateBird called Terp Basel. Cookies was in the building; they now have a location in Miami and it’s cool to see them support events like these. My New York homies, 167 Exotics, were there and they hooked us up with some with some powerful Cherry Poppers buds. We also ran into the TerpHogz gang and they let us try two new strains from their latest pheno hunt: Lava Cake X Zkittlez and Hindu Zkittlez x Papaya x Zkittlez #28. Eventually, it was show time. The Yutes had a tremendous performance, gracing the stage alongside Smoke DZA and Curren$y. After the crowd was rocked to its fullest potential, we ended the night smoking some more astounding weed and declared it a successful evening.

Things went so well that we cliqued up the next day and hit the Basel streets together to stop by various events. We pulled up to Coi Leray’s event, launching her new strain with TheTenCo, which was great because we were blessed to obtain a few packs of that delicious Pink Zushie. The rest of the day was spent at an indoor/outdoor arcade venue called FunDimension where an event called Dab Day: Art Basel Edition was held by Dab Day Productions.

As you may assume from the name, it was certainly a terpy affair, filled with hundreds of Art Basel-goers ripping dabs, playing arcade games, and congregating over the love of cannabis. Of course we did even more smoking there: endless pre-rolls from the homies at Blazy Susan, some more fire from Buddys Bodega, and ran into Shaggy Brown with that extremely potent Shaggy OG (which is not to be slept on unless sleeping is a goal). 

Casa De Cristal, the headiest location for functional glass art in Miami, had a full-blown pop up with super rare pieces from the likes of Mothership Glass and Toro. This was where Tris took his first dab ever in life, using a Puffco Proxy. Later on, I had the honor of introducing them to one of my cannabis heroes, Richard “Uncle Rick” DeLisi. Rick, who runs his own family cannabis business called DeLisioso, blessed them with some wisdom and some merch from their booth.

As this night was coming to a close, it was time to hydrate, eat, and recharge, because at some point in my haze I needed to ask some burning questions to my new stoner pals.

High Times: I saw Curren$y really embrace you guys. He mentioned wanting to work again. What can you tell us about your song with him?

Chris: Making “High Grade” with Curren$y was an amazing feeling. It’s a stoner song. We live that everyday, so it was only right we tap in. Reggae is also something that we’re interested in because we come from Jamaica. We made a dope vibe and Curren$y added his flame to it. Plus he rapped a different style on it—definitely one of my favorites. 

HT: Do you remember how you were turned on to him as a fan? 

Tris: When we was 13 or 14, Wiz [Khalifa] put out a video for a Waka Flocka freestyle, called “Reefer Party.” We was tuned into Wiz because he was poppin’ out there, you know, with “Black and Yellow” and all that. Wiz was just going so hard in that video… smoke everywhere and everything. So Curren$y was not on that song, but he was in the video, and so was Nipsey Hussle. There were a lot of cameos, and us being students of the culture, we just soaked it all up. Listening to Wiz put us on to all of that.

HT: What was it like to attend a pure Cannabis event like Dab Day? 

Chris: Being able to smoke so free and open like that was an experience for us. 

Tris: Whole event was crazy. We grew up with cannabis getting so much bad publicity—a lot of people in jail for the wrong reasons. Just the fact that we are at this point, where events like this exist, is beautiful. 

Chris: I was stoned as fuck, that’s why I missed out when Tris took a dab. I’m still mad about that!

HT: What about meeting Rick DeLisi? 

Chris: Uncle Rick is a very intriguing and interesting person.

Tris: Everyone needs to read up on Uncle Rick’s story. But basically he was a cannabis smuggler who just got out of prison after 32 years. That is longer than both of us have been alive. It is great that he is free and happy, and smoking big.

HT: With Mr. Lexx being your father, has cannabis always been a part of your life? 

Chris: Yes, having a father in the music industry, he would always have his joints around. He would hide it from us, but we knew what it was. We figured out that it was a part of the music and his way of creating. 

Tris: And not just the weed, we found his whole lifestyle inspiring: the way he would interact with other artists, be in the studio and go to events, really made us want to go for it. He wasn’t always there, but when we do get to link it’s always an unforgettable experience.

The post Smoking Through Art Basel Featuring The Yutes appeared first on High Times.

It was the final stop for The Smashing Pumpkins and Jane’s Addiction. There’d been a few bumps in the tour, but it all ended with splendid rock and a whole lot of Perry Farrell quotes we couldn’t get enough of hearing, pondering, and wondering, how can we get high with Perry Farrell one day?

“Let’s Go Motherfuckers!” – Mr. Farrell 

The two iconic rock groups delivered more than trips down nostalgia lane together. Yes, “Jane Says” or “Tonight, Tonight” ignited a flood of feel-good memories of bright summer afternoons or lazy school days. However, even the band’s classics are gifts that keep on giving in the present. The two bands gave their fans more fond memories that’ll hit them like soft bricks when their songs hit the radio or, more accurately, Spotify in the future. 

Poppy set the tone for the night well—a mixture of rock and comedy. She’s got a lovely voice, especially when she screams, “Fuck the world, it’ll just fuck you back!” She followed that song with a brief silence and a pleasant, soft-spoken, “Thank you,” which had me howling. She just radiates rock—an artist just doing her own thing.

“Wine, weed, can’t stop, can’t stop.” – You Know Who

Once Poppy left the stage, it was Jane’s Addiction time. Queens of the Stone Age’s guitarist Troy Van Leeuwen filled in for Dave Navarro, while original bassist Eric Avery was welcomed back with love and Stephen Perkins kept the energy high on drums. Everyone on stage was playing at an 11, but Farrell, he’s just from another planet, isn’t he? 

Farrell was happy to be back home in Hollywood. The city was equally as delighted to have him back. He is a showman of his own making, although his infectious joy on stage did call David Lee Roth. Just an energizer bunny with a graceful voice to compliment his high-wired movements. 

He is almost always on the move. 

Now, I could go on and on about everything Farrell said in between songs, because really, what other frontman says during a show at the Hollywood Bowl: “It’s a good day when you have a fucking hard-on.” The memorable quotes kept on coming, but his voice was just as entertaining. 

Farrell’s voice always had a hypnotic effect.There’s a gentleness to it, kind of an innocence that can clash with or compliment his more hard-edged songs in a way that’s rich in dynamicism. That voice along with the rest of the band can send you down a nice lazy river with “Summertime Rolls,” which I really wish they played, or a rollercoaster of rock, like “Three Days.” It’s a voice and band that knows how to tell a story. 

On the last night of the tour, Perry’s voice sounded practiced, not tired. He was in lockstep with the band. The group kept the electricity on full blast. It was a show. “What goes good with wine?” Farrell asked. “Sex.” He shared this around the time Ferell’s collaborator, wife, and vocalist, the one and only Etty Lau Farrell, danced and rocked back and forth on a plastic horse. The presentation and dancers match some of Jane’s sexually charged lyrics, but there’s also romance there! It was sweet watching a couple create art together and go nuts for one another. 

By the end of Jane’s Addiction loaded one-hour set, Farrell had a bottle of wine in hand and didn’t want to leave from the look of it. The band behind one of the all-time great rock albums Nothing’s Shocking was warmly embraced. As they deserved.

“You guys like spanking? Come see me after the show.” – P.F.

Billy Corgan reminded us all that the band is now about 35 years old. There was a collective sense of, holy shit, it’s been that long? After over three decades, Corgan keeps exploring new pathways with The Smashing Pumpkins. The Pumpkins recently released ATUM – Act 1, part one of a three-part rock opera that is… divisive. Instead of delivering more of the same, why not polarize, right? Flaws and all, at least the Pumpkins are still exploring.

The band isn’t completely focused on the past when they play live, either, but of course, songs from Gish, Siamese Dream, and Mellon Collie And the Infinite Sadness completely rock and sometimes even wreck—in a good way—the crowd. Together, Corgan and guitarist James Iha, who could barely move on stage and yet was so charismatic, do a version of “Tonight, Tonight” on two acoustic guitars that, I’ll say, was moving. 

The Pumpkins are now a well-oiled machine live. The setlists are tight and flow organically. The band knows when to go quiet or, often in spectacular fashion, go big. Whenever Corgan’s voice wailed and Jimmy Chamberlin gracefully bashed the shit out of his drums, the crowd was on their feet. Such a treat watching Chamberlin at work, as well as seeing Corgan, Chamberlin, and Iha together after years apart. It’s special, and Corgan recognized that when he thanked the crowd. 

One Last Word from Perry Farrell

If it’s not obvious by now, I want to walk down the corridors of this man’s mind with a joint and, just in case for protection, a wiffleball bat. Half-kidding aside, Farrell wasn’t all jokes when he wasn’t singing. In fact, at one point he showed more support for the women of Iran than far too many public officials in the United States. Farrell for 2024, am I right?  

“Our hearts go out to them,” Ferell said. “I just want to let you all know, if you look at the world as a paradox, this is a sign. A sign that the Iranian people they’re not going to take that shit anymore. They’re going to go to the streets. One day, I hope we can meet at God’s mountain and celebrate life and humanity.” 

The post An Ode to the Edible King, Perry Farrell appeared first on High Times.

The amount of dripped-out ice in the room for such a small amount of guests was astonishingly mind-boggling. Wall-to-wall bling-off! If you’ve never been to a Gumbo event, let me warn you, they like to do everything big for the culture. The drinks were flowing with a full open bar… definitely shots of 1942 were being passed frivolously around the tables. The food was incredibly amazing. I suggest anyone in the Miami Beach area or planning to visit to make a reservation immediately… highly recommend the mouth-watering lamb chops, calamari bites and the yummy mac & cheese. Thank me later! The vibe and the networking was on one thousand, especially with DJ Wrecky who totally kept the hype going while mixing in a healthy amount of Bagg’s hottest hits all night. By the end of the event no one wanted to leave, they literally had to turn the lights on. Every guest was gifted the signature Gumbo pens and plenty of gas to go around. 

Not only did Gumbo show Moneybagg Yo major love at the announcement dinner, but they also gifted him a 150 carat chain with VS diamonds and a 90 carat VS diamond watch, which is one of 18 in the world, from Pristine jewelers. The Black-owned cannabis and lifestyle brand has been buzzing like crazy in the streets, especially gaining more attention with their collaborations with today’s hottest in entertainment including Meek Mill, Lil Meech, N.O.R.E., Fabolous, and brand sponsor for viral podcast, Drink Champs. 

The “Shot Off Gumbo” strain will be a Hybrid with an earthy sweet pine undertone and euphoric and stoney experience under the Gumbo Brands Umbrella.

Gumbo Brands is a revolutionary new cannabis and lifestyle company, founded by the Black-owned entrepreneurial power-couple, Karim Butler and Alexis Major. Unlike some of the corporate brands that swoop in and try to take advantage of cultural equity in this industry, Gumbo Brands’ major focus is making a difference, building wealth, and sharing knowledge within the Black and Brown communities. Black ownership accounts for only 4.3% of all cannabis businesses. This couple is breaking down that barrier by bringing more people within the community into the cannabis business and giving them the resources and career opportunities to succeed. Gumbo Brands is utilizing creative cultural initiatives in this space to encourage entrepreneurship while also supporting racial justice outcomes and inclusion, including working with the formerly incarcerated to gain licenses, who oftentimes don’t have the financial means or proper information to secure one. 

Gumbo is currently a leading brand in the cannabis space and sold at top dispensaries across the nation, and on its way to global expansion with their products, which includes flower, G-pens, exclusive merch, and lifestyle products. They recently announced a partnership with the global empire Cookies that will give the brand access to 22 states and 15 countries as the cannabis takeover grows within legalized areas of the world. If you’re looking to get your hands on some of this new cannabis strain, be sure to check out www.thegumboshop.com.

The post Moneybagg Yo, Gumbo Shut Down Miami for ‘Shot Off’ Launch appeared first on High Times.

Christie said he took a deep dive into psychedelics more than 10 years ago, going through what’s now referred to as “ego death,” in an effort to discover bliss and find unity with God. He used them as a tool to find meaning in this life and get beneath the human subconscious that can hinder our growth and development.

As a child, he was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyper Disorder (ADHD) and clinical depression, stating his depression was mostly based on poor decisions and life situations he put himself in.

Prescribed Adderall and antidepressants as a child, he realized he was self-medicating with cannabis in college. He dropping out early, leaving cannabis behind in the wake, then added psychedelics in an attempt to shake off the depression.

He was tripping regularly on either psilocybin mushrooms or acid once or twice a month. This, he said caused him to stop going out and socializing, with his fantasy life taking over.

“I’d go through a kind of cosmic consciousness, then I’d sober up and have to go to work the next day,” he laughed. “I realized these stages I was going through on the psychedelics were already there in my mind. I didn’t have to keep tripping or going through it to move forward. It was the difference between using the experience to open a door or actually walking and working through it.”

With the difference between trying and doing firmly understood, Christie felt he didn’t have to continue using psychedelics. He used the experiences he already had as a tool to get to the next life level, keeping cannabis use as part of his wellness and musical process.

“I hadn’t yet written music, played an instrument, or even considered myself a musician,” he said. “Psychedelics put the pieces together for me. Pointed me in the right direction … I feel psychedelics are as an important a tool to psychology as a telescope is to astronomy.”

“My method in making music became medicating with cannabis, jamming, and recording.”

– Willy Christie

Breathing the Third Eye Open

Meditation has long been a way for humans to transcend their own subconscious—to leave behind the baggage of emotion we store in the mind that can cause us to stagnate as developing human beings.

Through Holotropic breathwork, Christie said he was and is able to transcend much in the same way he did on the psychedelics. 

Holotropic breathing exercises were developed in the 1970s by Dr. Stanislav Grof and his wife, Christina, initially using lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD). When the psychoactive formulation was made illegal, the couple developed the breathing technique to allow their subjects the same type of release and realizations outside of themselves.

“The point is not where the work takes you,” he continued, “but what you do with the experience afterwards. Using psychedelics as a treatment shows you the work you need to do, where you need to be in your life – especially if a change is needed.”

It’s not unusual for someone to use psychedelics to help them get to another place of emotional wellness. Fungi, LSD, MDMA, and ayahuasca are all used to help dig into the subconscious for understanding, to heal trauma, and to aid in addiction recovery, offering a reset as a starting point.

“The experiences while on these substances open up your third eye, allowing you to see what’s important, leading you on a path to healing,” he added. “But you still have to do the work. My use of acid actually taught me to medicate smarter, helped me to feel peace long after the experience had ended.”

Christie said he also realized that the psychedelics were more about feeling, and that once your brain stops ruminating, that’s the point where you are truly present—to “be here now,” as the late, great spiritual teacher, Ram Dass, once advised. And meditation, he said, gives him that same portal of peace.

“That’s the message I convey through music—moments of peace,” he continued. “If you have a feeling of peace, of being present, it’s easier to have faith that everything is going to be all right, and you are on the right path.”

Music, he said, is a placeholder for other messages, melodically speaking directly to the subconscious. A signpost letting you know you are not alone, united by a common thread of words and melody.

“Talk about some radical shit camouflaged in music,” he laughed. “Music has a universal message and can speak to many. This may be a dream we are living in, but we are all in the same dream. Music puts you directly in the present. Eckhart Tolle’s The Power of Now was life changing for me in living in the moment.”

“Life is now. There was never a time when your life was not now, nor will there ever be.”

– Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now (New World Library)

The Message in Music

Christie recently released a psychedelic rock album, Kukuni, created in a self-imposed six-month isolation, “accidentally” sacrificing the entire summer of 2019.

Afterwards, he swore he’d never lose another summer, and then America’s mandatory COVID-19 lockdown hit, forcing a second isolation period and the completion of the album—fueled by consuming copious amounts of weed. 

“I’m one of the members of the “do drugs and make music for people who do drugs and listen to music,” he laughed. “I went through pounds of weed during the six months time it took to write the album. The influence of the plant is undeniable. One song on the album, ‘Zorrillo’, is a reference to weed. It’s the Spanish word for ‘skunk’.”

His moniker Kukuni makes this album self-titled. It’s a play on the word cocooning—likened to his self-imposed, then pandemic-mandated lockdown.

“I was listening to NPR and misheard the word ‘cocooning.’ I was expecting to hear some new foreign concept, as I’d just become hip to the Japanese concept of Forest Bathing,” he said. “If you are stressed, you go out into the forest and breathe in the pine air. The word cocooning sounded like Kukuni to me, so I went with it.”

The connection to the forest and cannabis is strong, as terpenes are also found in pine trees (pinene). It’s one in the same.

“Just like when you smoke a cultivar with the pinene terpene, when you go into the forest and breathe in that terp, you are instantly relaxed and alert. It’s the same effect,” he concluded.

Christie was recently signed by Liquid Culture, a global community of artists and creators with a mission to preserve and further the psychedelic experience—founded by Nutritious and “Renaissance woman, publicist extraordinaire,” Zoe Wilder.

Christie’s album had him working with producer Tony Buchen (Smashing Pumpkins, Sam Gendel, John Carroll Kirby) and drummer Robby Sinclair (Linda Perry, Chet Faker).

The album cover is trippy in itself, shot by Los Angeles-based photographer, Emily Eizen. The cover features a nod to the plant, with Christie holding cannabis flowers he grew in a vase. In the other hand he holds a mirror, as a sign of his constant searching and self-reflection.

Fueling the Muse

Hailing from Kansas City, Kansas, Christie proved what we all know: even in conservative, illegal states, people grow cannabis. The plant prevails.

“I’ve been growing now for 12 years, but was living with the constant fear of a knock at the door and going to prison for the mandatory five-year sentence when I was still in Kansas,” he said. “So, I moved to Los Angeles in 2016, staying with friends in West Hollywood. When I arrived and exited the freeway there was a gas station on the corner and I remember thinking how high the gas prices were and thinking to myself, I’ll never be able to make it here.”

After placing an ad on Craigslist to put a band together, he met a girl—acquiring both a bandmate and a girlfriend—making the high prices of California a little more bearable. A job with a cannabis company didn’t hurt.

“I worked for a company called the Venice Cookie Company,” he said. “They’re called VCC today and still make a beverage, Cannabis Quencher.

His cultivar, Rainbow Road, was inspired by Mario Kart’s final course on Mario Kart 64. 

“On the course, you are literally driving on a rainbow with stars as guardrails,” he explained. “You are driving around in space on a psychedelic rainbow. What’s better than that?”

Kukuni is filled with symbols, myths, and fables—the language of the subconscious.

“I like to take people into the dark forest of the human spirit and shine a light on the path less taken,” he surmised. “It’s what cannabis does for me, and it’s in the spirit of the music I make.”

The post Higher Profile: Kukuni’s Willy Christie, Musician and Breeder appeared first on High Times.

Originally titled “Have You Ever Met That Funny Reefer Man,” this song was written in 1932 by J. Russel Robinson, with lyrics by Andy Razaf, and recorded by Cab Calloway. As the song was written five years before the Marihuana Tax Act—reefer was still legal in almost all of America at the time. It was first recorded by Calloway, with several popular covers, including one by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. Calloway lived a long life—long enough to appear in the 1980 Saturday Night Live-inspired film The Blues Brothers.

“You’se A Viper” – Stuff Smith

In Harlem, New York, people started calling reefer smokers “vipers” in the 1920s and 1930s. “Viper culture” was centered on good jazz music and reefer. This classic B-side was first recorded by Stuff Smith and the Onyx Club Boys in 1936. It was released as the B-side to the song “After You’ve Gone.” The song was retitled again and again to correct the broken, casual English. Fats Waller’s 1943 cover version mentions “Mighty Mezz”—referring to Milton Mezzrow, a Jewish saxophone and clarinet player who also is synonymous with viper culture as a famed marijuana supplier.

“When I Get Low I Get High” – Ella Fitzgerald

This song was recorded in April 1936 by Chick Webb and his orchestra, with stunning vocals on the chorus performed by none other than Ella Fitzgerald. For the most part, Fitzgerald tried to cultivate a wholesome image, but she also was very street savvy in regards to the underground jazz community. In the 1930s, Fitzgerald sang about both reefer and cocaine, such as in Wacky Dust, also recorded with Webb. Fitzgerald went on to scoop up 13 Grammy Awards and an additional 20 nominations.

“Jack, I’m Mellow” – Trixie Smith

This song was used relatively recently as the series theme song for Disjointed starring Kathy Bates. Originally recorded in November 1938, the song was included on Reefer Blues: Volume One, a compilation album of vintage blues songs, featuring some of the other tunes on this list. Louis Armstrong played the cornet on some of Smith’s best known songs, and she was active during the vaudeville era. Smith’s birthdate is completely unknown, but she was born sometime between 1885 and 1895.

“That Cat is High” – The Ink Spots

That’s one high cat… Here’s one that will take you back in time. The Ink Spots originally released “That Cat is High” written by J. Mayo Williams and The Ink Spots, and released it on the single “Oh! Red” in 1938. The Ink Spots were an American vocal jazz group that gained international stardom in the 1930s and 1940s. Their accessible vocal style is thought to have helped lead to doo-wop and modern R&B. The Ink Spots were finally inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1989.

This article appears in the June 2022 issue of High Times. Subscribe here.

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When we connect by phone, the Long Strange Trip producer is ecstatic at the release of his latest film, Let There Be Drums!, which explores the history of drummers in famous bands and the drummers’ relationships with their children.

Over the course of our conversation, Kreutzmann dives into the origins of his filmmaking aspirations, the influence of the Grateful Dead lifestyle on pursuing his passions, the art of storytelling, and his firsthand look at the normalization of cannabis culture within the 70s Deadhead psychedelic movement.

High Times: Coming from such a prolific music family, how did filmmaking become your path?

Justin Kreutzmann: It became my path the minute I watched Apocalypse Now.

If you’ve seen the film, Mickey Hart tells the story of Francis Ford Coppola coming to Winterland and being blown away by the drum section. Coppola was in the middle of putting together Apocalypse Now and figuring out the score, and as anyone who has seen the film knows, it was a massive undertaking. So Coppola was really inspired by the drums and asked Mickey if he and dad [BIll Kreutzmann] could contribute to the percussion. Of course I was seven at the time and didn’t know any of this—I just knew we were going to Mickey Hart’s studio in Novato and we were going to watch this movie.

We sit down and it’s the Grateful Dead and all of the Coppola people and they put on the six hour version of Apocalypse Now. Francis sits next to the TV and describes the entire movie in terms of rhythm and what percussion sounds the jungle was making at certain points and I just loved it. With the Grateful Dead being so free and easy, you could watch something like Apocalypse Now without parental supervision. It was an amazing experience and even though ninety-percent of it probably went over my head, I looked at Francis like, “I don’t know what he’s doing, but I want to do that. That looks like an amazing job.”

So dad bought me a Super 8 camera and literally one of the first things I shot were the Grateful Dead New Year’s Eve shows in 1977. That’s how I started because you shoot what’s around. You shoot family home movies. I wish I’d shot more, but I was a shy little kid running around with a camera and the Grateful Dead scene—I know this will be a shock to everybody—wasn’t really one where it was like, “Yeah, come backstage and shine a light on all the stuff we’re doing.” You had to be stealthy, pick your moments, and not get yelled at. From seven or eight years old, [filmmaking] is what I wanted to do and I never had a fallback option.

Being around the Grateful Dead, it was very much encouraged to follow what inspired you and to do a job you love because otherwise life would be too hard. Filmmaking for me checked all of those boxes.

High Times: Having your father do what fueled him—how impactful was that on you in terms of staying the course and pursuing filmmaking?

Justin Kreutzmann: It was the most impactful thing ever. I saw what my dad did for work and [what he had to do] to play and make it great. I saw the effort he had to put in. I also saw the fun he got out of it and the rewards—certainly financially—but more the ten-thousand people dancing and cheering [for their music]. I also got to see his part in the band and understand the team effort.

I was in the studio when the band first started rehearsing “Terrapin Station.” For anybody who knows that song, there are a lot of parts, and so it was a long day sitting there watching the Grateful Dead figure it out. It was like Apocalypse Now—it was big, it was epic and I saw it getting more cohesive. The reward six months later was watching the band play these parts on stage and people freaking out. Being able to follow the whole process was really important.

With filmmaking, there’s the writing of it, the shooting of it, editing it, showing it to a theater—I equated it to doing what my dad did in the Grateful Dead and used the examples from him but just applied it to the film world. It’s all about the rhythm of the cuts. You can be deaf and watch a film and still love it because of the rhythm, the pace and the way the beats are landing.

A hard cut in a film is like the “one” beat. But also within that cut, there might be something that is landing on the “three.” You get into these rhythms that are not so pronounced but that can be very subtle and the audience can be moving along with it even if you’re not telegraphing your punches. We all know when you’re watching something and you turn the sound off and you’re just kind of bobbing your head because you can feel what it probably sounds like.

High Times: So whether it’s a film audience or a music audience, it’s more about connecting with them on an undercurrent that transcends sound.

Justin Kreutzmann: You’re telling a story. You never lose sight of the story you’re trying to tell but you’re telling that story visually, through sound, through music and the rhythm of the cuts. A lot of the really fun stuff is when somebody sees something in there that you didn’t even intend but they get something else out of it.

High Times: Along your career journey of understanding music and film, was there ever an experience or collection of moments that validated your initial impulse at pursuing your own filmmaking hero’s journey?

Justin Kreutzmann: There were two points. The first was in 1981 when we did a parody of the Rolling Stones tour produced by Bill Graham where all the guys in my sixth grade class dressed as The Rolling Stones under the premise that we were staying over at Bill Graham’s house. My teacher set up a screening for everybody in the grade—and while it was probably a terrible film—just watching it, having the kids cheer, and having that moment where your peer group recognized what you did creatively was so inspiring and gave you that first hit of validation.

The second one was realizing, “Hey, I might be able to feed my family,” and that filmmaking was something I could do as a career while not having to go through drastic measures to try and put food on the table. When you’re getting going, you hope it’s going to work, you have big dreams, but you have that fear of, “What if I’m no good at what I love to do?” I’m not sure how good I am, but at least I’m able to feed and clothe my children. My wife can take care of herself but we’re all getting by and we’re all having a very nice life.

High Times: There’s something really beautiful about picking a path that speaks to you—like with the members of Grateful Dead—and leaning into it. When you do that, everything else sort of falls into place.

Justin Kreutzmann: One-hundred percent. You also have to realize, growing up in the particular music scene that I did—the Grateful Dead did it their own way. Those guys were the same way back at home as the way they hit the stage. While they would have loved hits, they didn’t go out of their way to get them. They played the music they wanted to play, they had a million-to-one shot, they got really lucky and they were talented enough to make a great career. But it could have gone the other way. This was not particularly commercial radio music, and just watching people do exactly what they wanted to do musically and believe in themselves—even if only ten other people got it—that was great. But ten-million people got it, so that was better.

Growing up, the Grateful Dead didn’t have that private plane, cover of People Magazine, big celebrity thing. They were successful in doing their own thing, but it wasn’t like they couldn’t go out to dinner to a restaurant—it didn’t really impact their personal life, and in that way you kind of had the best of both worlds.

You watch the Rolling Stones and you think there’s no way Mick Jagger could go down to a 7-11 and buy a Slurpee. Maybe he could, but the assumption is he wouldn’t be able to without getting recognized. I have a lot of friends with whom we always joke we’re in the “famous father club,” friends whose dads were in The Beatles or whose dad was Bob Dylan. If your dad is Bob Dylan, everybody knows your dad—which can be tough—but Jacob [Dylan] is literally one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet in your life. Same with Sean Lennon and all those guys who would seem to have carte blanche and not be part of our world are actually really nice guys. It’s really fascinating because I always look at their dads and to me, The Beatles aren’t human, they’re this other thing that happened in the world—in a good way. The Grateful Dead were a few down-to-earth guys and The Beatles were on this mythical plane making this music that everybody loves.

High Times: In terms of your documentary Let There Be Drums!, what creatively inspired you to go on this journey and why this film?

Justin Kreutzmann: It’s something I’d been thinking about in the back of my mind for some time, something that I thought I could do well. Because of my dad, I had grown up around a lot of drummers, knew a lot of drummers’ stories, knew a lot of them personally—and originally, it was a lighthearted thing. Everybody’s got a drummer joke. Just ask [Jerry] Garcia, just ask Pete Townsend. Everybody’s got a really bad drummer joke that doesn’t end well for the drummers. So I thought we’d do this comedy of the sort of stereotypical hotel-smashing animal from the Muppets type stories. But the minute we started doing the interviews, it just went somewhere else. I blame Taylor Hawkins for this because he was the first guy to say, “Okay, I don’t know if this is for the documentary, but how stable was your home life growing up?” He started asking me questions and so instead of the interviewer/interviewee, we’re trading stories.

I’d have my list of twenty questions and the answers were all great, but the minute it went off and got more personal or into areas they don’t get asked a thousand times, it got more interesting. So when I got in the editing room, the film really told me what kind of film it wanted to be. There’s a lot of really interesting drum stuff in it, but there’s more interesting emotional and family stuff, and the connection just happens to be that it’s families of drummers.

Most everybody has a father, most everybody has a family, and most everybody can relate to issues and family stuff. I just sort of showed it in the context of being a kid of a drummer, like through Jason Bonham and Mandy Moon. I mean come on, if your dad is Keith Moon, I want to hear what that’s like. That’s really unique. Mandy’s not a drummer and she was the first interview we did for the film. I think her interview along with Taylor’s really set the tone. She wasn’t going to tell me about her dad’s technique or how he played shuffle. The stuff that really spoke to me emotionally is what ended up in the film and became the focus.

High Times: And drumming just happened to be the way in, but really it’s a much deeper narrative that you’re telling.

Justin Kreutzmann: I’m glad it worked out that way because if the pitch had been, “Hey, we’re going to do a film about our famous drummer dads,” that blows. Because it just sort of happened organically, it ended up being much better. Seeing the different pairings of dads who are here, dads who are no longer here and all that kind of stuff—that was all in the mix. You couldn’t just put that next to a funny hotel smashing story. There’s more to it than that. And also, everybody was being so freaking real with me—there was no way I couldn’t be real when it was me and my dad. We were as real as everyone else was, and that’s what I really love and respect about all of the people in this film.

High Times: Were there any commonalities across all of the interviews that you picked up on?

Justin Kreutzmann: The connective tissue between a lot of the things—and Jason Bonham says it really well: “When your dad’s in the band, you’re like whatever. It’s not like you’re in The Beatles.” He has this great line where he goes to see his dad sellout a stadium in Florida and he asks, “Who’s on the bill? There’s no way Led Zeppelin could do this.” It’s love and respect but just a total kid thing of “this is just something that your dad does,” but your dad just happens to be in Led Zeppelin, but you’re still not impressed because you see him all the time. So that was a very common theme that came up.

High Times: What role did cannabis play for you growing up? Were there any commonalities there?

Justin Kreutzmann: Obviously growing up in the 70s in the Grateful Dead world, cannabis was plentiful, loved, and respected. It wasn’t like all drugs bad, no drugs good. Cannabis, LSD—they weren’t considered drugs. Heroin, crack—that was the bad shit. Even alcohol. But cannabis was just like cigarettes. It’s what everybody did, it was around, and we knew a lot of people who grew it.

I myself was never a weed guy. It was too strong, it made me too freaked out, and so I missed that train. But I’d have to guess I was around enough that I probably had a ten year contact high just from being near the Grateful Dead.

I remember the Grateful Dead were playing Stanford and it was the second set. I was sitting on a road case by Jerry’s area and he walks out with the rest of the band and he’s got his roach in his hand and he just hands it to me. It’s bright daylight at Stanford, everybody could see me holding his joint like he was Indiana Jones at the ark. Part of me really wanted to take a hit but then I looked around and realized ten-thousand people could see me, so I quickly handed it to somebody else.

I’m a sober guy, so I play it pretty clean, but I don’t have a chip on my shoulder. I do love the smell wafting over because it reminds me of home and I wish I was one of those guys [who was able to do it]. I did some videos with the band Slightly Stoopid and they just looked like they were having so much fun. The guys would talk about how they would get edibles for their dads, which I thought was so cool. It works for them and it’s creative and it’s fun, but I’m a father and a husband now and I don’t want to “poke the beast” as they say. Mad props for people who can just have a good time and get a little stoney.

Follow @justinkreutzmann and check out https://greenwichentertainment.com/film/let-there-be-drums/ for access to his latest film Let There Be Drums! available now

The post Justin Kreutzmann on Music, Film, and a Lifestyle Inspired by The Grateful Dead appeared first on High Times.

Let’s just say the proverbial pecker gnat was a buzzing. I was on the verge of a 15-hour day—coal miner hours by Southern Indiana standards—up against a tight deadline for Hustler Magazine that I would have hit, too, had it not been for those sandbagging porn stars. At the same time, the in-laws were in town and wanting to get together for an early dinner—5:30, hell, I just had lunch at 2—and I soon found myself scouring the Internet for discount fares to Costa Rica where I would open a banana stand and change my name to Frank. To top it off, when I finally got home and reached into the fridge for a pre-show brew, all that was left was two cans of pineapple lager that Dos Equis sent me the other day hoping for a review. Well, here it is: Fucking yuck! I was beat, feeling defeated and quite honestly not in the mood for the show.

EYEHATEGOD, I would soon learn, wasn’t doing any better. Although a decent crowd came out to be defiled by these sludge metal vets—many of which were outside smoking copious amounts of weed in an attempt to get into the right mind-set—the venue was simply ill-equipped to handle the power. The sound system was puny, the stage needed training wheels, and the freaking disco ball spinning above the crowd as Ringworm, the show opener, brutalized the place was a clear admission of bewilderment. Might as well post a sign outside the city limits: Welcome to the Armpit of America, y’all. We love the night life, we’ve got to boogie. Yeehaw! 

Nope, not unless this tour rolled into town on a pair of cocaine-powered roller skates, the 1970s afro-glitter flair was more of an embarrassment than anything of aesthetic relevancy. Where in fuck’s holy name were all the gnarly monochromatic clippings of the gutter culture that’s become synonymous with the image of this band? EYEHATEGOD is and always has been a bold, unapologetic statement on the spread-cheeks of the societal downtrodden amid a governmental reaming. They’re not a bar band that’s going to be “rockin” the night away to help America’s neighborhood watering holes, much like this one, sell drink specials and get the 9-to-5’ers laid. These weren’t the piss-ant acoustic folkies that got booked to play Matchbox Twenty covers on the patio during Thirsty Thursday. These boys are trap house storytellers of the nod, totally removed from the gluttony of happy hour society, just waiting for the cops to kick down the door and drag everyone to jail. For Christsake, EYEHATEGOD guitarist Jimmy Bower is in Down with metal legend Phil Anselmo! Replace that disco ball with a noose when they’re in town.

At least everyone was sauced up on something, or so it seemed, a necessary spirit, I imagine, for getting the most out of an EHG show. I’ve always theorized that the reason some music gets more interesting when we’re stoned is because it was recorded and mixed that way. Like it was some super-secret portal designed to reveal tunes in their purest form to those individuals in that precise mindset at the time. I’ve found this to be true of EYEHATEGOD records. But I didn’t always hear it.

It wasn’t until some buddies and I got to listening to their 1993 album Take as Needed for Pain while blazing through a sack of grass that I, for one, began to understand where they were coming from. Vocalist Mike Williams would later confirm that I was onto something. “Weed has always been a part of our writing process,” he told HIGH TIMES. “When we get together to jam, it is rare that we don’t smoke. It’s a social thing as well as something that encourages wanting to create music. Not all of us partake, but we are friends getting together to kick a few jams over a joint and a few beers. Weed sometimes unlocks ideas that a sober mind might not touch on,” he added. 

It was near showtime when I sensed the band wasn’t all that impressed with the hand they’d been dealt on this stop. I saw it the second that Williams was accosted by a bartender during soundcheck, just moments before their set began, asking him to help locate the owner of a set of car keys lost during Ringworm’s set. “Um, it’s for a Chevy,” he said awkwardly into the mic, presumably thinking: Well, this is it, boys. We’ve finally arrived in hell. It was just a matter of time. From where I was standing, it was evident that the band had been getting spoon fed a hefty bowl of Hoosier codswallop. It was written all over their faces. Or maybe what I was witnessing was just the blatant cynicism oozing from their eyeballs after three decades in this life. 

In a lot of ways, we shouldn’t even be talking about EYEHATEGOD. After all, the band started as a joke. Yet, their dirty interpretation of the Sabbath influence eventually took off before hitting a wild, downward spiral that would have surely sabotaged better men. There were drug arrests, lineup changes, hurricanes and even death, all of which many would argue is par for the rock n’ roll course. After drummer Joey LaCaze died suddenly of respiratory failure in 2013, Williams learned that he was right behind him, diagnosed with cirrhosis and given a year to live. He would have bit the big one too had it not been for a fan-funded replacement liver. I thought about this as he flipped off the crowd and requested a shot of vodka from the bar. “Be careful with that,” I thought. “They won’t give you another one.” By Williams’ own admission, that’s not something he does often. “If I have a joint, I am much less likely to drink,” he told me. “I am not a heavy drinker, but I like to alter my state of mind and will drink more if I don’t have weed.”

Still, tempting fate where major organs are concerned could end badly, especially for these guys. Not even the most debauched bands in history have suffered such a rotten string of bad luck. These mangy scamps of the south are undoubtedly butt mutts of the punk generation, unequivocal proof that tragedy-prone heathens can be spawned if a lady isn’t careful where she pees. We’re talking total human degeneracy, shitheels, scum of the earth, and I mean that as a compliment.

Coming from all directions, middle fingers were flying, a sure-fire sign that the band was about to play. “We’re EYEHATEGOD,” Williams screamed, as Bower, decked out in a Hank Williams Jr. t-shirt, swooped in with the band’s signature screech and whir seconds before drummer Aaron Hill launched into “Take as Needed for Pain.” Fucking-A! My photographer, Holly, and I were, of course, throwing down in the front row, stage left in front of Bower. “If the crowd gets too rowdy for you,” I yelled into her ear, “just slide out that way,” pointing to a small opening next to the speakers.

Listen, EYEHATEGOD’s music is some of the heaviest in the genre, but they don’t have a reputation for playing fast or stability in terms of cadence. There’s no hooks or anything in the way of song structure. A large part of their discography, some might say, at least I do, resides in the key of the melancholic and wretched. It’s sonic quaaludes under a grey November sky. It’s what one might feel in total isolation, surviving off nothing but handfuls of amphetamine salts, benzos, and the occasional bologna sandwich. That combination makes it difficult for a flock of dead brain cells in combat boots and Vans to throw flying kick spins, windmills, and whatever other spastic mosh pit tactics these whippersnappers have embraced these days without appearing as though they just contracted a rare redneck strain of neuronal ceroid lipofuscinosis. As soon as Williams belted out, Breast fed from a dog /since the day I was born, the show was on.

EYEHATEGOD isn’t fodder for parental retaliation, nor is it unbridled angst for teens with too much testosterone coursing through their veins to enjoy music without a clenched fist. It’s more for the ones with bruises on their arms, those marred with cigarette burns brought down by their alcoholic stepfathers. The abused, tortured, and disenfranchised. The aggression isn’t necessarily payback for stolen youth. These fans, the ones who truly identify with the sentiment of the lyrics, stand in pools of faithful repugnance, head nodding on time with the chunk-chunk, their epitaphs all destined to read: Here lies the self-inflicted.  

What I’m trying to say is that I didn’t anticipate a violent mosh pit that carried the distinct possibility of turning someone into a paraplegic by the end of the night. We didn’t need that shit! But then again, these were godless knaves—talking about the Tuesday night drunkards and chain-smoking degenerates that just show up to these kinds of things to open a can of whup ass on total strangers—and the one thing that was certain was that they’d start a pit to Beethoven’s Sonata No. 14 if it meant they got to break somebody’s jaw. So, you never know. 

By most standards, EYEHATEGOD’s show was exactly what you’d expect. Forty-five minutes of ear-piercing feedback and down tuned anthems for the stoned. It was an intimate presentation that at times felt like we were just hanging out at their practice spot, drinking all their beer, smoking their dope, and overstaying our welcome. In a way, though, they made me hate myself. Their presence was somehow a cruel reminder that there are no answers. Success was not without peril, life is pain, there’s no preparation for the end—ours, or anyone else’s—and none of this mattered anyway. It was as though I had taken psilocybin in search of enlightenment, and all I found in that department was depression and dread. When I got home, my serotonin had been undoubtedly sucked from my brain, leaving no immediate hope for recovery, not that I cared. Perhaps that was their intention all along. I reached into the fridge, suddenly reminded that there was nothing left but a pineapple lager to help me find solace in the misery. 

Hey, EYEHATEGOD, fuck you!

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Björk, Ellie Goulding, Kid Cudi, and Lil Nas X all say that psilocybin is part of the mix in recent music-related projects.

Björk’s new overtly psychedelic album Fossora, was released on Sept. 30 via One Little Independent Records.

The album, by her own admission, is a direct “ode to mushrooms.” “It’s something that lives underground, but not tree roots,” Björk told Pitchfork. “A tree root album would be quite severe and stoic, but mushrooms are psychedelic and they pop up everywhere. My fungus period has been bubbly and fun, with a lot of dancing.”

The title is derived from Latin, loosely meaning “she who digs.” The cover art to Fossora is exceptionally trippy. On the cover, Björk wears a wig created by Tomihiro Kono that resembles mycelium, and she wears a bodysuit dress created by Paris-based designer Jisoo Baik.

Kid Cudi’s new animated special and album Entergalactic were named after a song of the same name that was inspired by psilocybin mushrooms. “I want a song that truly embodies the tone,” Cudi said. “And, like, ‘Entergalactic,’ from Man on the Moon, is a love song. It’s about me meeting this girl that I like, and we were doing shrooms for the first time.” 

The song is gaining new life after it was originally released on Cudi’s 2009 debut album, Man on the Moon: The End of Day, entitled “Enter Galactic (Love Connection Part I).”

Entergalactic is also the name of Kid Cudi’s eighth studio album. Anyone familiar with Kid Cudi’s work knows that he focuses on psychedelic experiences frequently, and designs his music videos to be watched while under the influence.

Entergalactic the animated project and album were released on September 30—the same day Björk’s mushroom-inspired album dropped.

Speaking on episode 408 of The Zane Lowe Show on Apple Music 1, English pop star Ellie Goulding discussed her new album Higher Than Heaven and a variety of topics including psilocybin, which she says is one of the inspirations for her new album.

Goulding explained that she was going through it when she was recording Higher than Heaven amid the COVID lockdown.

The album, she says, is about escapism and psilocybin-induced love. “That’s exactly what this album is. It requires a certain amount of pain to go through to write what I write,” she told Lowe. “This album is ultimate escapism about being completely, insanely in love. There’s a lot of sexuality in there.”

“It’s almost like a psilocybin-induced love,” Goulding explained. Sheg rarely talks about topics like magic mushrooms in interviews, and generally adopts a clean public image.

Last year, Lil Nas X released his album Montero which spawned the number one single of the same name. He explained to WSJ Magazine that his album was inspired by psilocybin mushrooms. “I was able to open up a lot,” Nas told WSJ Magazine. “I was able to write actual stories about my life and put it into my music. I actually did that for the first time.”

Grab one of these albums and enjoy—but remember that set and setting are key when dealing with something as powerful as psilocybin.

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