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Roky Erickson's 13th Floor Elevators were the most crazed, out-there psych band of all time. To salute the new 10-disc box Sign Of The 3-Eyed Men, we present this 1972 encomium to the band from post-gonzo renegade Mike Saunders.--Barney Hoskyns, Editorial Director, Rock's Backpages

First off, there's some stuff I'd like to get off my chest. By the time you read this I'll have graduated from the good old University of Texas and left town, so I'll be in no bodily harm.

I've wanted to say it for a long time, there's a lot of people around here who feel the same, and it's as simple as this: Austin, Texas, is one of the most goddamn laidback dumps in the whole universe.

Imagine a town that's actually proud of being the home of such linseed hippie hicks as B.W. Stevenson, Jerry Jeff Walker, Marc Benno, Michael Murphy, and John Charles Quatro. And that's not all--folks in the counter-cult community around town seem to think (they brag about it all the time) that Austin is going to be the next San Francisco. As if anyone would even wanna be at this late date. You'd think some people would learn their lesson.

The 13th Floor Elevators are another matter altogether. The Elevators were one of the few groups who really took acid-rock seriously. Literally. Lead singer-songwriter Roky Erickson was an impressionable young kid in 1966, a mama's boy who invariably took after his friends, and so it came to pass that Roky wound up dropping acid 400-500 times, drinking tubfuls of DMT, and as an acquaintance put it, "Roky had a certain mythic stature in those days. Before I met him I was told these stories...like, for instance that he had drilled a hole in his head in order to let out the pressure so he could stay high all the time."

"You're Gonna Miss Me" (written by Roky) reached #55 nationally in late 1966, the Elevators cut four albums on International Artists, and the group dissolved in 1968-69 due to the cumulative effects of too much dope, crooked managers, and a generally incompetent record company.

Now here's where the myth come in. In April 1969, Roky Erickson was busted for dope possession a top Mt. Bonnell here in Austin. At the time, Roky was in what might euphemistically be called a state of drug psychosis, so a deal was made. Roky was ruled insane and sent to the State Hospital, rather than get the unbelievably stiff Texas prison sentence for weed.

So Roky Erickson spent three years in Rusk State Hospital. He escaped countless times only to be continually brought back by his friends; he smuggled dope in constantly until Rusk barred anyone from visiting him except his parents and immediate relatives. He had continual hallucinations of Nazi war atrocities, astrobodies, and (you guessed it) seeing-eye pyramids. He had countless fellow inmates quite paternally concerned over his well being. To make a long story short, most of the doctors decided Roky was grade-A nuts and a danger to society.

But if you go down to the Austin county courthouse and check the Criminal Division files, there are psychiatric reports that quite emphatically state that Roky Erickson was not insane at all. These reports describe him as a hysterical personality, a disorder commonly found in women, but so rare in men as to be often mistaken for insanity. Which is what happened. Accustomed to winning people's approval as was his habit, Roky had proceeded to do a very convincing job of pretending to be insane for all those years.

And it's all a goddamn shame. For three years America had lost the services of one of the potentially greatest rock "n' rollers ever in the Bob Dylan/Lou Reed tradition--and I'm not being facetious in comparing Roky Erickson to Lou Reed because not only does he look a bit like Lou, but sings like a demented Holly-Dylan-Reed combination and is a genuine punk to boot. He's a killer songwriter too.

Now here's the good part. On 27th November, 1972, Roky Erickson was ruled sane and released from Rusk (the result of a lot of hard work, particularly by his lawyer John Howard). Over Christmas vacation Roky reorganized the 13th Floor Elevators with the following personnel: original drummer John Ike Walton, Roky's brother Donnie Erickson on lead guitar, and new guys also on bass and electric piano (the original bassist is supposed to rejoin anytime, though).

Since then the Elevators have been playing around town following their first public gig in February. I missed their comeback gig, but have seen them every time since then, and am thrilled to report that they are exceedingly good, at times great. I dunno how they compare to the original 1966 group since I wasn't living in Texas back then, but the current Elevators are undoubtedly one of the punkiest groups in all of America.

And they look like punks too: Roky, his brother Donnie, and drummer John like all look as if they'd never seen 1967, coiffed as they are in stunningly short haircuts by 1972 standards. When the strobe lights get going towards the end of "You're Gonna Miss Me" and Roky pulls out his harp to screech on it, you'd almost swear it was a time warp were it not for the heavier, more modern instrumental sound. The bassist and keyboards man are your usual Texas longhair slobs, but they're now guys after all, and the pending addition of the Elevators' original bassist should improve matters here.

An important point, though, is that it's as far from necrophilia as you could hope for. When Roky Erickson mounts the stage in his psychedelic cape and Lou Reed shades you know it's the real article, no tired nostalgic hokum whatsoever, and half of the Elevators' stage repertoire consists of new originals: "Let It Burn," "I Believe (In America)," "True Love Cast Out All Evil," "I Feel Good." Remaining numbers include their most popular oldies ("You're Gonna Miss Me," "Reverberation," "Fire Engine," "Splash 1"), with all but the hit improved over the original recordings, and various oddities, like "Sweet Little Sixteen," a reworked "Lucille" titled "My Maxine," "Rainy Day Women #12 and #35" and "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue" (the latter two not so odd when considered that Roky is singing in a more Dylanish fashion than ever before).

So far the Elevators have yet to play the same set twice, with only one thing a certainty: that they'll play "You're Gonna Miss Me" 2-3 times a night and give their old fans their money's worth in spades. Now I ask you, when are the Jefferson Airplane gonna do that? Or the Stones? The most mesmerizing Elevators number of all--doubly so once I learned that they'd planned on including a half-dozen Holly songs in their repertoire until their manager talked them out of it--is a totally crazed combination of "I'm Going To Love You Too" and "Peggy Sue." If you're familiar with the stories of how Black Oak Arkansas and Mouse & The Traps cut their teeth almost a decade ago doing Buddy Holly songs, you can imagine what it was like for me hearing for the first time the Elevators' performance of this number, Roky Erickson screaming and shrieking in a fashion Buddy Holly never in his wildest dreams could have envisioned...Whoo!

At present the Elevators are cutting some tapes at local studios to send to record companies, hoping to hitch onto that road towards national recognition that eluded them the first time. To say that the group has strong recording potential would be an understatement; their new originals are quite good, and Roky Erickson remain one of the rock 'n' roll voices of all time. If no one signs them, it's going to strengthen my lingering suspicion that the rock and roll drought of recent years isn't necessarily due to lethargy in the music, but rather to simple A&R incompetence--most of these clowns at record companies just don't know rock and roll when they hear it.

I mean just think about it. In 1966 most anyone could cut a record, mainly because there were so many countless small independents, but now you've gotta be a folkie, a mellow-brained Marin County refugee, a new heavy poet, an ex-sideman from someone's ex-backing band....Oh yes, a little rock 'n' roll in there somewhere, can't overlook the cult audience.

S***. Get the 13th Floor Elevators into a studio with someone like Rodger Bain, and you could have a whole new field overnight: acid metal. The possibilities are endless. Genuine comebacks are exceedingly in the rock world, but this is a real one, and I really hope it pans out. With the possible exception of the Bobby Fuller Four, the 13th Floor Elevators are the best, most original group Texas has ever had, and few bands anywhere deserve long-overdue success more than they do.

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