MEXICO MAGICO COSMICO rare private Pink Floyd psych LP

$

224

The subtitle of this amazing private label Mexican psych album, “En El Ombligo de la Luna,” means “the navel of the moon,” and if that doesn’t tell you exactly how many hallucinogens went into its creation, then read on.  Combining the liberal use of sound effects and unflappable patience of mid-period Pink Floyd with the trippy tribal rhythms of South America, this unique album single-handedly creates a new genre of music – Mayan Space Rock.  I’d say it’s the best album in this genre too, if only I could think of one other example.

This is Luis Perez’s Mexico Magico Cosmico, from 1981 – but don’t let the release date fool you – this is timeless stuff, and could easily have been created in 1971 – or 1871, for that matter.  Most of this is intensely mystical, trance-inducing stuff, as patient as “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” or anything off Tales From Topographic Oceans, with debts to both.  But the brave mix of tribal instruments and krautrock synths creates a sound that’s completely unique.  If aliens really did have a hand in creating those Nazca lines, then this is the music that played during the Grand Opening.

I wouldn’t recommend anyone try to pronounce the song titles on Mexico Magico Cosmico – instead, let the music speak for itself in the universal language of stoner rock.  Opener “Xochiyaoyoloh” starts off with a flurry of exotic bird calls, Mayan space rock’s own “Cirrus Minor”.  “Ketzalkoatl Yauh Miktlan” follows, gently wafting in on a bed of tinkling wind chimes and the sound of some synthesizer generated sandstorms.  A second synth creates some high pitched screeching melodies, much like a Mexican version of Yes’s “Soon The Light,” and it’s not until four minutes in that we finally get our first taste of rhythm.  Like some mysterious Mayan warrior tribe rumbling across the desert, their shaking percussive beats grow ever louder as they get closer.  And once that ominous “Run Like Hell” bassline kicks in, the warrior tribe turn into Gerald Scarfe’s marching hammers.   There are a few vocals, if you can call ‘em that - just wails really.  It’s a heady mix of cosmic debris, for sure, and you get the feeling if this music had been released on Atlantic Records, someone would’ve phoned Roger Dean to design the cover.  A big purple lizard god writhing between a maze of floating pyramids.  I could even see it painted on the side of a van somewhere in Guadalajara.

At about ten minutes into the song (see, I told you this was patient music), things get really freakish, and the song devolves into a mind-f**k of trippy white noise, screaming “Echoes” electric seagulls, and the sound of a television set going on the fritz, circling your head like a hundred screeching winged serpents whose flapping wings conjure up endless dust storms and the collapse of a thousand ancient Mayan temples.  And as the needle finally lifts off of Side 1, you’re dazed, spellbound and spent, left scratching your head and wondering – is there enough acid in the world to help me fully comprehend this album?

Don’t look for help on Side 2 – which consists of one long 21 and a half minute epic piece of acid-riddled madness.  This is the sound of Luis Perez’s Pink Floyd mix tape, a dozen Mexican bootleg 8-tracks of Meddle all playing at once.  After a spoken word intro (in Mexican), the song goes into a rumbling “One of These Days” bassline, with more of those unholy “Echoes” seagulls circling overhead.  From there, it’s a veritable headphone symphony of sound effects – more freakish synth noises, a telephone ringing, church bells, the shrieking cries of confused aliens trying to find their way to Cozumel – all set to a blindingly fast synthetic hand drum rhythm.  As Pop Will Eat Itself once said, it’s “a dance of the mad.”  If this was meant as a serious historical document, then we’ve learned one thing:  Those Mayans surely weren’t hurtin’ for mescaline. 

At the fourteen minute mark, Side 2 literally becomes the creepy part of “Saucerful of Secrets” – with the rumbling avalanche of rolling drums and squealing space chipmunks from hell – the part that I could never play in the dark as a child.  In fact, it’s so darn similar, Roger Waters might even have a lawsuit, or at the very least, a new touring band.

So if we’re to take anything out of this record, besides the dried-up ganja stems hiding in the gatefold binding, Luis Perez’s Mexico Magico Cosmico teaches us three important things about the ancient Mayan culture:  1) they worshipped Ketzalkoatl and created buildings and dwellings based on the stepped pyramid structure of construction, 2) their music was strongly rhythmical and heavy on percussive instruments, and 3) every Mayan had a copy of Atom Heart Mother.

SO RARE original 1981 private label pressing.  THICK gatefold deluxe cover - embossed front cover and WILD psychedelic inner artwork (see 3rd pic) - cover's in VG++ shape with small stain on front cover.  Vinyl plays VG+ with some crackle, mostly because of the quietness of the music.

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