Honey Baby by Alan Steve: A Psychedelic Trip Worth Taking
Alright, buckle up, because Honey Baby by Alan Steve is one of those albums that feels like it was cooked up in a haze of incense and questionable decisions—and I mean that in the best way possible. Released in 1969, this Italian-French psychedelic rock gem has more layers than your grandma’s lasagna. With credits boasting names like Johny Glider (arranger extraordinaire) and Anthony Sharp (producer with an ear for chaos), the album oozes creativity. Oh, and let’s not forget Strong Et Valla, who slapped some seriously groovy artwork on this baby. It’s the kind of cover you’d frame and hang above your record player if you still had wallspace.
Now, onto the music itself. The album kicks off with "Honey," a track so smooth it could probably butter toast. It’s got this dreamy vibe that pulls you in, but then BAM—outta nowhere comes a guitar solo that sounds like someone just unplugged reality for a sec. You know what I’m talking about? Like when you’re zoning out during a boring meeting and suddenly imagine yourself riding a dragon through outer space. Yeah, it’s THAT kind of moment.
Then there’s “Daisy Five,” which might as well be renamed “How to Make Your Brain Feel Weird Without Drugs.” This tune is all over the place in the most delightful way. One minute you’re vibing to these lush harmonies, and the next thing you know, the rhythm shifts into something that makes you question whether time even exists anymore. I swear, every time I listen to it, I end up staring at my ceiling wondering how humans can make noise this hypnotic without melting their instruments.
What sticks with me about these tracks isn’t just the sound—it’s the feeling. Alan Steve clearly didn’t care about fitting into any box; he was too busy building his own weird little universe where rules don’t apply. And honestly? We need more of that energy today. Music nowadays is either overly polished or trying way too hard to shock us. But here? Here we get raw, unfiltered genius wrapped up in swirling guitars and trippy lyrics.
So yeah, Honey Baby isn’t perfect. Some parts are messy, others feel like they came straight from the fever dreams of a mad scientist. But maybe that’s why it works. It’s unpredictable, bold, and refuses to play nice—and honestly, isn’t that kinda refreshing?
Final thought: If you ever find yourself stuck in traffic or waiting in line at the DMV, throw this album on. By the time “Daisy Five” hits, you’ll forget where you are—and possibly who you are. Not a bad trade-off if you ask me.
