Ceduna

(Sensory Projects)

Just about every middle class kid with a Lonely Planet guide, a thesaurus of hackneyed eastern philosophical musings and a pair of a designer hessian pants has claimed to have had a transcendental moment. Transcendental, in this context, is often used synonymously (but erroneously) with enlightening. A genuine transcendental moment is said to occur when the witness achieves a higher plane of consciousness, possibly due to the surrounding cultural and environmental conditions, and most likely with the aid of some mind altering substance of valuable potency. But when the drugs wear off, so usually does the moment, and, unless sent spiralling into the waiting arms of a cult with a penchant for liberal sexual activities and micro-managed financial practices, the witness is left with little more than a hazy memory of something that seemed more enjoyable than mundane, everyday existence.

There are plenty of transcendental musical moments to be had without embarking on a journey of self-discovery. Indeed, the liner credits to the new Sand Pebbles record, Ceduna, convey the band’s thanks “to everyone who transcendental with us”. The Sand Pebbles understand the power of a transcendental, psychedelic experience – not in the sense of bright ink blots, purple granny glasses and festering Grateful Dead t-shirts, but in the sense of a moment when you can close your eyes, listen to the music and wait for it to interact with your senses and take you to a different cognitive place. Sure, you don’t stay there forever – but if it was perennial, it’d never be any fun going there.

Ceduna was recorded proximate to the town of the same name, located on the south-eastern coast fringe of South Australia, referred to popularly as the Great Australian Bight. As an artistic statement, Ceduna is a product of its geographical environment. It’s sparse, remote and laconic, an album that you can listen to anywhere, anytime, and feel just that little bit more relaxed, a bit more aware and a helluva lot more in touch. The colours of the album are immediately recounted and illustrated with the opening track Red, orange, purple and blue – it’s bright, but a bit dark on the inside, light but really deep, man, if only you know where to look. Wild Season, in contrast, is a celebration of surf, sand and the beauty of the pop song, played out eight miles high into the psychedelic musical atmosphere. The perfectly crafted harmonies that characterise Short term memory loss are as compelling as David Crosby’s charismatic grin after imbibing some of LA’s finest mescaline (later on, Tina Louise recounts tales of acid fuelled juvenile pranks that would amuse Crosby’s drug-battered brain). The literary inspiration of Tennessee runs a distant second to the haunting, beach bummed television feel of the tune itself and Purple Flower is a love song that gives folk a sparkling mauve tinge. And then there’s the intergalactic brilliance of Future Proofed, a song that both typifies and contradicts western society’s inherently flawed quest to protect itself against the perils of the future, without acknowledging that we’re all only living in the moment, and it’s only this moment that we can deal with.

In Silver Comet the Sand Pebbles take a sharp left back down the glistening, spaced out, surf pop that only few bands even comprehend the existence of, before the final song, Scenic Railway, unrolls slowly into a lazy fifteen minute journey out of the haze, and back into what passes for normality. Like the early morning recovery session with a couple of cigar sized doobies, things stumble back into reality after the wild night spent in wild psychedelic heaven.

And while the Sand Pebbles’ journey is at an end, and the transcendental moments are over, you can’t help but feel you’re all the better for it. Ceduna doesn’t solve world poverty, re-plant old growth rainforests, bring peace to the Middle East, or even eradicate the influence of the mind-numbingly moronic public relations industry from our daily existence. But it does give you plenty of moments that transcend all that shit – and that’s what quality psychedelic music should do.

PATRICK EMERY