If you've ever been drunker than a hobo tramp in a head on car collision on the mass turnpike in the dead cold of a Nor' easter and had yer head thrown into the windshield of a mid 90s bmw then you've experienced the impact of Blonde Acid Cult. It's like a shotgun blast to the chest or shakin' the pickin' hand of Lightning Hopkins or getting on the good foot with Jimmy Brown. Go back in time, move to New Orleans and you might understand. BAC is the beat generation, the delta blues, the british invasion, the highs, the lowsthe hearts and souls of American dreams lost and forgotten but resurrected to grab you by the throat and shake you until the blues leaks from yer socks while yer feet begin to shake. You'll get yer rocks off like the 4th of July in a midnight sky. BAC is the big dipper. Count the stars and you'll never forget the synchronized notation of a million dead poets grabbing you by the balls until you realize there's war and corruption all around you and BAC will open yer eyes to the beauty that still exists from the Harlem streets to the Big Sur bluffs.
