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A Retro-Acid House Odyssey in Twelve Phases

“Music is an ideal tool for therapy … One of the most important things music is doing is providing a climate in which the individual feels deeply acknowledged — of your experience to be OK as it is.”
— Mendel Kaelen, neuroscientist and founder of Wavepaths, former Imperial College researcher

Google’s Deep Dive Podcast: Psychedelics, Acid House, and the Sacred Architecture of Sound

https://youtu.be/jOTyDmVXXUQ

1989 Warehouse Requiem: Psychedelic Soundscapes and the Sacred Dancefloor

At the twilight of the 1980s, deep within the pulse of a graffitied warehouse, an entire generation danced its way into a new kind of spirituality. 1989 Warehouse Requiem, a twelve-phase Acid House concept album, captures one woman’s transformative journey through an LSD-fueled rave and explores how music, psychedelics, and self dissolve into unity. This experience, though anchored in one specific night, represents much more: the timeless interplay of inner awakening, communal ritual, and post-rave clarity. To understand the deeper dimensions of this story, we explore three major subtopics: the synergy of music and psychedelics as vehicles for transcendence; the emergence of the rave as a sacred ritual; and the inward path toward healing and integration.

Music and Psychedelics as Vehicles of Transcendence

The power of music under the influence of psychedelics has long been acknowledged in both scientific and spiritual traditions. In 1989 Warehouse Requiem, sound becomes a guide through altered perception, as a young woman dissolves into rhythmic light and 303 acid lines. Neuroscientist Mendel Kaelen describes music as “a climate in which the individual feels deeply acknowledged,” which mirrors the protagonist’s experience as she is embraced by beat and bass. Each track layers analog percussion, warped vocals, and emotional pads to simulate shifting inner states. The auditory journey transforms from anxious anticipation to euphoric union, then from ego loss to soulful reintegration. This isn’t passive listening—it’s participatory metamorphosis. The music acts as medicine, mood architect, and midwife to the ineffable.

From a neurobiological standpoint, LSD heightens auditory sensitivity and emotional connectivity, allowing sound to bypass intellect and strike directly at the limbic core. This can produce not only synesthetic effects, but a sense of mystical union—precisely the phenomenon explored in tracks like “Smile Religion” and “All of Us, All at Once.” These compositions reflect the classic stages of psychedelic therapy: onset, dissolution, insight, and return. Through layered production techniques and shifting BPMs, the album mirrors these phases musically, creating an immersive container for transcendence. Here, rave music isn’t entertainment—it’s a sonic vehicle for soul travel.

This synergy between psychedelics and sound also aligns with indigenous practices and modern research. Just as shamans use drumming or Icaros to guide consciousness, so too does this album utilize Acid House’s squelching motifs and atmospheric textures to journey inward. The beat becomes mantra, repetition becomes revelation. In the warehouse, with serotonin peaking and time unraveling, the protagonist doesn’t just hear the music—she becomes it. This unity of listener and soundscape reflects a deeply ancient truth: that music, like psychedelics, has always been a portal to the divine.

The Rave as Sacred Ritual

What began as countercultural defiance in industrial spaces evolved into something much deeper: ritual. The warehouse rave of 1989, as portrayed in the album, is a ceremonial space where ordinary boundaries dissolve. From the moment the protagonist places the tab on her tongue and steps into the crowd, we witness a passage—a symbolic death and rebirth akin to tribal rites. The DJ becomes the priest, the sound system a sacred altar. With each drop and rise, participants lose their ego, merge into group ecstasy, and are remade. This isn’t merely dancing; it’s communion.

Much like ancient rites, these raves employed architecture and timing to induce trance states. The progression of light, the enclosed dark spaces, the sequencing of tracks across the night—they all echo elements of guided ceremony. Track titles such as “Walls That Pulse and Know” and “Room of Nowhere” underscore this atmosphere. The crowd transforms from strangers into swarm, the rave floor into a living organism. Eyes dilate not just from LSD but from spiritual reanimation. Every whisper, drop, and bassline feels choreographed by an unseen intelligence—one the protagonist eventually realizes is herself, merged with the many.

Scholars of ritual theory, such as Victor Turner, define “communitas” as the unstructured, egalitarian community that emerges in liminal spaces. This is exactly what the 1989 rave offers: a space free from hierarchy, judgment, or the performative norms of society. In that raw vulnerability—sweat-soaked and rhythm-bound—the rave becomes a sacred mirror. And as the album progresses, the listener understands that what’s being sanctified isn’t just sound, but the human experience in its ecstatic, unfiltered fullness.

The Inner Journey and Personal Integration

After the beat fades and the sun rises, what remains? The final movements of 1989 Warehouse Requiem address the often-overlooked aftermath of transcendence: integration. As the protagonist walks home barefoot, “Shoes in One Hand, Sunrise in the Other,” she is not the same woman who entered the rave. The rush has ended, but clarity has begun. Her senses are newly attuned—trees shimmer with life, strangers glow with unseen dignity. This is not a crash, but a soft awakening. She has re-entered the world but brought back something rare: vision.

Integration is the spiritual digestion of the psychedelic journey—its transformation from spectacle into wisdom. Tracks like “Question of Self” and “Reassembly in Soft Focus” express this theme through quiet beats and introspective lyrics. The woman’s fragmented identity begins to knit itself together, not into what it was, but into something truer. In the mirror, she no longer sees just her face, but the geometry of her transformation. It’s not dramatic—it’s sacred in its subtlety. Like Rumi’s waves, she realizes she is not just in the ocean—she is the ocean.

This arc from intensity to serenity reflects the potential of both psychedelics and ritual to catalyze personal evolution. And in a culture increasingly defined by distraction, her experience is a reminder: depth is still possible. The rave, once dismissed as escapism, reveals itself as initiation. The acid, once demonized, becomes medicine. And she, once a partygoer, is reborn as a witness to beauty she never thought possible. The warehouse didn’t just host a party—it gave birth to a pilgrim.

Evolution

1989 Warehouse Requiem is more than a nostalgic nod to Acid House—it is a mythic retelling of personal transformation, told through sound. It reveals how the alchemy of music and psychedelics can unlock transcendent states, how the rave acts as a modern-day ritual, and how such experiences, when integrated, can forever alter our relationship with the world. In the end, the protagonist walks out alone—but not unchanged. She carries within her not just memories, but meaning. In that sense, the warehouse becomes every sacred space, and the beat becomes every heartbeat reborn.

Veena at the Threshold: A Bassline Benediction

Veena was not born Veena. She chose the name on a rainy morning in Queens, holding a paper cup of chai in one hand and her old driver’s license in the other—its name and gender now a misfit costume she had finally outgrown. Born to Guyanese Hindu parents in a Bronx apartment above a halal butcher, she grew up in the tangled rhythm of contradiction: raised to pray to gods with elephant heads but told never to dress like one. She came out as trans at 24, and by 26 had lost a job, a fiancé, and her mother’s voice on the other end of the phone. What she hadn’t lost was the music.

It pulsed through her earbuds in subways, soothed her panic attacks in grocery store aisles, whispered healing into the cracks between identities. And so when she read that TATANKA’s Orchestra Americana was opening a live sound healing experience in Denver, she scraped together enough to make it there—one Greyhound ticket, one secondhand suitcase, and a heart trembling like feedback through reverb.

The venue was an old converted Masonic hall framed by the Rockies, windows open to the golden breath of autumn. Veena stood outside in a sari jacket, her box braids haloed with leaves, a neon sigil drawn gently on her forehead by one of the volunteers. This wasn’t a concert—it was a rite. She was told to remove her shoes, breathe deeply, and enter the space when ready. Inside, candles flickered between modular synths, analog drum kits, and flutes shaped from bone. And there, on a small cushion among strangers, she began her journey.

The music did not begin so much as emerge. Like a tide of memory. Deep 808 kicks mixed with cedar flute and Lakota vocal lines looped into spirals. A woman in a woven shawl struck a ceremonial gong, and a voice whispered: “You are safe to shed.” Veena exhaled—and her past unspooled like film left too long in the sun.

She remembered dancing alone in a high school gym, holding her chest so the boys wouldn’t see it swell. She remembered her father’s fingers pressing turmeric to her forehead and whispering “You are a son to be proud of,” and how the words never found her bones. But as the Orchestra layered ambient cello over Detroit-style house rhythms, a strange softness came. She wasn’t erasing anything. She was weaving it all together.

Halfway through, a woman beside her—Black, older, draped in a velvet dress—reached over, not to hold Veena’s hand, but to mirror it with her own. Their palms hovered inches apart, pulsing to the same invisible beat. In that moment, she wasn’t a mistake or a transition. She was simply part of the waveform.

The final movement came like dawn. The bassline softened, replaced by field recordings of morning birds in South Dakota. One violin, played in near-stillness, carried the audience out like a tide retreating. Veena opened her eyes. Tears had dried on her cheeks without shame.

Outside, shoes back on, she walked slowly through the Rocky air. Someone handed her a hand-written card: “The body is not a cage. It is a chorus.” She smiled—really smiled—for the first time in months.

Back in Queens weeks later, Veena launched a community healing group for trans femmes of color, built around music therapy and decolonized mindfulness. She named it Bassline Benediction. She tells every newcomer: “You’re not here to become someone else. You’re here to come home to your sound.”

Takeaway

Veena’s story is a celebration of identity reclaimed through communal sound, a reminder that healing can happen when rhythm meets ritual. For those pushed to the margins, music becomes both sanctuary and sword—a space where you don’t have to explain yourself, just resonate fully. Through TATANKA’s Orchestra Americana, Veena didn’t escape herself—she met herself in surround sound.

This story is a call to remember that when we make space for underrepresented voices, we don’t just offer access—we open portals. Sound is not neutral. It holds memory, culture, and possibility. And when shared intentionally, it becomes a rite of belonging for those who have been told for too long they don’t.

Text-to-Music Prompt
“Analog Acid House circa 1989, starting with sparse 909 kick, metallic claps, and whispering pads; intensifying with squelching TB-303 basslines, hypnotic arpeggios, filtered breakbeats, and deep reverb, slowly evolving across the night to warmer chords, lush ambient synth washes, and gentle sunrise tones. Include shifting BPM to mirror her internal states: building tension, euphoric peaks, surreal detachment, and eventual soulful resolution at dawn. The vibe moves from dark, pulsing warehouse into luminous, dreamy morning. Energy arcs from anticipation, immersion, distortion, to re-entry. Must feel vintage but cinematic, gritty yet sacred.”

Track Durations
The tracks are separate pieces mixed to emulate a DJ flow. The duration of each track starts short, then increases, decreases, again increases, and finally decreases, like the waves she experienced over one long, night of discovery and mind expansion.

Layering Elements by Track Phases
🔹 Tracks 1–4 (Arrival, Euphoria)
• Cold analog percussion, tight loops
• Minimal vocal stabs (“jack”, “acid”, “smile”)
• Slowly increasing filter resonance
🔸 Tracks 5–8 (Surreal, Disintegrating Self)
• Heavier 303 modulation, stereo-panned FX
• Delayed vocal textures, reversed samples
• Sub-bass pulses and pitch-warped transitions
🔹 Tracks 9–12 (Communion, Reflection, Dawn)
• Chord progressions with pads reminiscent of Detroit Techno
• Faint bird song mixed with crowd fade-outs
• Slowly decaying tempo and sonic “breathing room”

Tracks

Delirious Arrival

Theme: A young woman attends a 1989 Acid House warehouse rave. She is tripping on LSD and her perceptions of reality are heavily altered. She experiences: A young woman attends a 1989 Acid House warehouse rave. She takes LSD at her apartment beforehand. Anticipation, altered nerves, the acid tab dissolves and she is already feeling its effects.
Title: Tab at the Threshold

[Intro]
La-la-la (waiting, waiting)
La-la-la (pulsing, pulsing)

[Verse 1]
Sitting cross-legged
On my bedroom floor
Paper on my tongue
Just minutes more
The walls are breathing
Ever so slow
Time keeps creeping
As I let go

[Pre-chorus]
Crystal paper dissolving
Crystal me dissolving
(Can you feel it coming?)
(Can you feel it coming?)

[Chorus]
Take me to the warehouse tonight
Where bodies move in black and white
Crystal dissolving, mind resolving
Into pure light
(Into pure light)

[Verse 2 – French]
Je perds mes sens
Le monde se plie
Les murs qui dansent
La mélodie

[Pre-chorus]
Crystal paper dissolving
Crystal me dissolving
(Can you feel it coming?)
(Can you feel it coming?)

[Chorus]
Take me to the warehouse tonight
Where bodies move in black and white
Crystal dissolving, mind resolving
Into pure light
(Into pure light)

[Bridge]
[303 acid sequence]
La-la-la-la (swirling, swirling)
La-la-la-la (rising, rising)
Everything is moving
Nothing stays still
Bass in my bones now
Time stands still

[Final Chorus]
Take me to the warehouse tonight
Where bodies move in black and white
Crystal dissolving, mind resolving
Into pure light
Into pure light
Into pure… light…

The Hive

Theme: A young woman attends a 1989 Acid House warehouse rave. She is tripping on LSD and her perceptions of reality are heavily altered. She experiences: Entry into the rave, the thump of bass, overwhelmed senses
Title: Bassline Baptism

[Intro – Spoken, filtered]
Through the door
Past the guards
Into the sound

[Verse 1]
Walls moving in time
Can’t tell what’s mine
Sweat on skin divine
You and I combine

Feel it start to change
Everything’s strange
Colors rearrange
Breaking out the cage

[Pre-chorus]
My flesh dissolves tonight
Into pure light
Into pure sound
Into pure now

[Chorus]
Bass became bones
(Bass became bones)
Moving in zones
(Moving in zones)
Bass became bones
Can’t dance alone

[Verse 2]
Hundred bodies flow
Time moves so slow
Everything’s below
Everything’s ago

Touch becomes a wave
Space misbehaves
Nothing left to save
All that we crave

[Pre-chorus]
The ceiling’s breathing deep
We’re gonna leap
Into pure sound
Into pure now

[Chorus]
Bass became bones
(Bass became bones)
Moving in zones
(Moving in zones)
Bass became bones
Can’t dance alone

[Bridge]
(Overlapping layers)
We are the rhythm
We are the pulse
We are together
We are dissolved

[Final Verse]
Morning’s far away
Let the beat stay
Nothing to say
Just float and sway

[Chorus – Outro]
Bass became bones
(Bass became bones)
Moving in zones
(Moving in zones)
Bass became bones
‘Til we’re all home

(DJ Instrumental Mix)

(Coda)

[Intro – Whispered, reverberated]
Bare feet on cold ground
Heartbeat still loud
But the world is slow
And I… somehow know

[Verse 1]
Streetlight haze and dawn mist
Ash on my wrist
Echoes from the Hive
Still feel alive

I saw time unspin
Saw the world within
Felt your breath, your grin
Sweat on sacred skin

[Pre-Chorus]
I left my name back there
With the flashing glare
Now I just breathe
Now I just be

[Chorus]
Walked out alone
But I’m not the same
Carved from the tone
Sung from your name
After the rush
After the flame
Still hear the hush
Whisper my name

[Verse 2]
Windows blink and blur
Dreams still purr
My pupils wide
But no place to hide

You dissolved in light
Danced out of sight
Now I walk the grey
Still warm from yesterday

[Pre-Chorus]
I touched a god last night
In liquid flight
Now silence rings
But it still sings

[Chorus]
Walked out alone
But I’m not the same
Carved from the tone
Sung from your name
After the rush
After the flame
Still hear the hush
Whisper my name

[Bridge – Spoken / Harmonized layers]
We were light
We were waveform
We were breath
We were swarm
Now I carry
Each vibration
In my marrow
Like a psalm

[Final Verse]
Eyes still flicker close
Soft afterglow
Rapture doesn’t fade
It just learns to go slow

[Chorus – Fading]
Walked out alone
But I’m not the same
Carved from the tone
Sung from your name
After the rush
After the flame
Still hear the hush
Whisper my name

[Outro – Minimal beat, ambient pads]

Flesh, Flash, Frequencies

Theme: A young woman attends a 1989 Acid House warehouse rave. She is tripping on LSD and her perceptions of reality are heavily altered. She experiences: Euphoria, connection, disinhibition, early LSD visuals
Title: Smile Religion

[Intro]
[303 acid sequence builds]
(One… one… one tonight…)

[Verse 1]
Strange feelings in my hands
Can’t hold onto time
Music’s pulling me in
And I’m

[Pre-chorus]
People moving like waves
Colors breaking apart
Can’t tell what’s real anymore
Your face becomes art

[Chorus]
We are all one tonight
(We are, we are)
We are all one tonight
(We are, we are)
We are all one tonight
Everything feels so right
We are all one tonight

[Verse 2]
Sweat dripping down walls
Bass in my chest
Bodies melting together
No past, no regrets

[Pre-chorus]
Touch feels electric now
Music’s in my blood
Can’t stop this feeling
Here comes the flood

[Chorus]
We are all one tonight
(We are, we are)
We are all one tonight
(We are, we are)
We are all one tonight
Everything feels so right
We are all one tonight

[Bridge]
[Stripped back beat]
Holy shit, I get it now
Everything makes sense somehow
We’re all just energy
Dancing atoms, you and me
Fuck the rules we used to know
Let the real truth start to show

[Rap Verse]
Moving through this space and time
Every person’s rhythm locked in mine
Skin dissolving into sound
No more up, no more down
Past and future slip away
Only now, only today
Mind expanding, soul set free
You’re me and I’m you and we’re we

[Chorus – Extended]
We are all one tonight
(We are, we are)
We are all one tonight
(We are, we are)
We are all one tonight
Everything feels so right
We are all one tonight
(One with the music)
We are all one tonight
(One with each other)
We are all one tonight
(One forever)

[Outro]
[303 line fades]
(One… one… one tonight…)

(Part Two)

Intro
[Vinyl crackle — muffled voices]
(One… fuckin’ one… one with the light…)
[303 burbles under sparse kick]
You feel that? That’s God. And she’s fucking dancing.

Verse 1
My fingers stretch through smoke and stars
Heartbeat fucked — don’t know where we are
Floor’s alive, my skin’s not mine
I’m inside out, and it feels divine

Pre-Chorus
You—your face just split in two
And I still wanna kiss both versions of you
God, this sound — it’s fucking sacred
Every thump, I’m re-created

Chorus
We’re holy tonight, baby
(No names, no lies)
We’re holy tonight, baby
(Fuck fear, just rise)
I swear I saw your soul ignite
We’re holy tonight, all right?
We’re holy tonight

Verse 2
Laughter’s dripping off the ceiling
Bassline’s in my fucking breathing
Hands are melting, teeth all shine
Who the hell said heaven ain’t mine?

Pre-Chorus
This beat — it’s got my DNA
Ripped it out, threw my shame away
Naked, not in body — mind
Every broken thing aligned

Chorus
We’re holy tonight, baby
(Just sweat and starlight)
We’re holy tonight, baby
(Just flesh and right-now flight)
Every inch of me feels right
We’re holy tonight, all right?
We’re holy tonight

Bridge
[Everything drops out but vinyl hiss]
Fuck.
I see it.
It’s so fucking simple.
We were never lost.
Just too quiet to hear the goddamn drum.
She’s been pounding — pounding — under our bones.
And now?
We move.

Final Chorus – Exploding
We’re holy tonight, baby
(Fuck shame, fuck pain)
We’re holy tonight, baby
(Let it pour like rain)
Ecstasy ain’t just a pill —
It’s this moment, raw and real
We’re holy tonight
We’re holy tonight
We’re holy tonight
Fuck yeah, we’re holy tonight

Drop Verse (Spoken/Screamed/Rapped)
Fuck your borders, fuck your fear
Every beat erases years
I’m nineteen and infinite
No rules left, just grit and grit
Limbs like liquid, spine unspooled
Language died, and I’m the proof
This ain’t a trip — it’s a birth
And I’m goddamn done with earth

Outro
[Sunrise pads swell]
[Breakbeat slows]
[Laughter sample echoes backward]
(Vinyl whisper)
“One… one…
She never left you.
She was the music.”

Faces Not Faces

Theme: A young woman attends a 1989 Acid House warehouse rave. She is tripping on LSD and her perceptions of reality are heavily altered. She experiences: Paranoia flickers—masks, echoes, double-vision interactions
Title: Mirrors in the Mouths

[Verse 1]
In the pulse
Of the bass
Every face
Moving fast
Through the crowd
Getting loud
Can’t tell who
Is still who

[Pre-chorus]
The faces keep changing (changing, changing)
The faces keep changing (changing, changing)
The faces keep changing (changing, changing)
The faces keep changing (changing, changing)

[Chorus]
The faces keep changing
Into someone new
The faces keep changing
What is real and true?

[Verse 2]
Lost in space
Time dissolves
Colors melt
Into sounds
Heart beats fast
Past is past
Room spins round
Underground

[Pre-chorus]
The faces keep changing (changing, changing)
The faces keep changing (changing, changing)
The faces keep changing (changing, changing)
The faces keep changing (changing, changing)

[Chorus]
The faces keep changing
Into someone new
The faces keep changing
What is real and true?

[Solo]
[Acid synth solo with TB-303 effects]

[Breakdown]
(Am I still here?)
(Am I still me?)
[Distorted beats fade]
(Where did I go?)
[Bass drops out]
(Who am I now?)

[Bridge]
Reality splits
Into pieces
Heart racing quick
Mind releases
Can’t hold on
Let it flow

[Final Chorus]
The faces keep changing
Into someone new
The faces keep changing
What is real and true?
(The faces keep changing)
(The faces keep changing)
(The faces keep changing)
(The faces keep changing)

Sentient Warehouse

Theme: A young woman attends a 1989 Acid House warehouse rave. She is tripping on LSD and her perceptions of reality are heavily altered. She experiences: The warehouse comes alive, pulsing like a heart, intelligent, aware, a sentient being as aware of her as she is aware of it.
Title: Walls That Pulse and Know

[Verse 1]
Walking in, feeling light
My skin’s electric tonight
Something’s different, can’t explain
But the air feels like a vein

[Pre-chorus]
The bass is breathing (breathing)
The floor is heaving (heaving)
And I swear to god this shit is real
I swear to god this shit is real

[Chorus]
The walls have a pulse
(The walls have a pulse)
They’re watching me dance
(They’re watching me dance)
The walls have a pulse
And we’re starting to merge
Into one consciousness

[Verse 2]
Every beam, every stone
Speaking straight to my bones
Architecture dissolves
As reality evolves

[Pre-chorus]
The bass is teaching (teaching)
My mind’s reaching (reaching)
And I swear to god this place is alive
I swear to god this place is alive

[Chorus]
The walls have a pulse
(The walls have a pulse)
They’re learning our moves
(They’re learning our moves)
The walls have a pulse
And we’re starting to sync
Into pure energy

[Bridge]
What the fuck is happening to me?
Everything’s alive and I can see
The building breathes
The building bleeds
The building knows just what I need

[Pre-chorus]
The bass is teaching (teaching)
My mind’s reaching (reaching)
And I swear to god this place is alive
I swear to god this place is alive

[Chorus]
The walls have a pulse
(The walls have a pulse)
They’re learning our moves
(They’re learning our moves)
The walls have a pulse
And we’re starting to sync
Into pure energy

[Solo]
[Instrumental acid sequence with building intensity]

[Final Chorus]
The walls have a pulse
(The walls have a pulse)
They’re part of my blood
(They’re part of my blood)
The walls have a pulse
And we’ve become one
With this living sound

Meltdown on the Mezzanine

Theme: A young woman attends a 1989 Acid House warehouse rave. She is tripping on LSD and her perceptions of reality are heavily altered. She experiences: Sensory overload, ego stutter, beauty and confusion blending
Title: Glass Thoughts Dripping Down

[Intro]
[Pulsing synth bass]
(Ah… ah… ah…)

[Verse 1]
Walking through the doorway
Sound waves hit my face
Everything is moving
In a different space

[Pre-chorus]
Colors start to blend and fade
Reality begins to sway
Can’t tell if I’m here to stay

[Chorus]
I’m becoming the strobe light
I’m becoming pure bright white
(Pure bright white)
I’m becoming the strobe light
Breaking into pieces tonight

[Verse 2]
Bass drum in my bloodstream
Body starts to float
Time has lost its meaning
Dancing notes and quotes

[Pre-chorus]
Patterns start to multiply
Everything intensifies
Can’t tell what is you or I

[Chorus]
I’m becoming the strobe light
I’m becoming pure bright white
(Pure bright white)
I’m becoming the strobe light
Breaking into pieces tonight

[Bridge]
Fragments of me
Scattered across the floor
(Scattered, scattered)
Losing track of gravity
Don’t know who I was before
(Who I was before)

[Final Chorus]
I’m becoming the strobe light
I’m becoming pure bright white
(Pure bright white)
I’m becoming the strobe light
Breaking into pieces tonight
(Breaking, breaking, breaking)

Stranger Than Skin

Theme: A young woman attends a 1989 Acid House warehouse rave. She is tripping on LSD and her perceptions of reality are heavily altered. She experiences: Touch and transformation, blending identities
Title: The Velvet of Other People

[Verse 1]
Through the warehouse walls tonight
Frequencies move through my spine
Something’s changing in my mind
As we dance between the lines

[Pre-chorus]
Can you feel it coming on?
Every boundary nearly gone
La-la-la, we’re moving strong
(Moving strong, moving strong)

[Chorus]
Touch electric, through my veins
Touch electric, break the chains
Feel the pulse beneath my skin
Let the night rush rushing in
(Electric, electric, rushing in)

[Verse 2 – French]
Je me perds dans cette danse
Les visages se transforment
Dans l’air, une résonance
Qui change toutes les normes

[Rap Verse]
Moving through dimensions now, reality’s dissolved
Every face around me shows a puzzle getting solved
Bodies merge with soundwaves, time ain’t what it seems
Bass is rippling through me like a thousand different beams
Consciousness expanding, past the point of return
Everything I thought I knew, now I’ve got to unlearn
Who am I becoming as the music takes control?
Are you feeling what I’m feeling as we lose our soul?

[Bridge]
We are one entity
(One entity)
Flowing endlessly
(Flow with me)
Through infinity
(Through infinity)
Set your spirit free
(Spirit free)

[Solo]
[303 acid sequence intensifies]
(La-la-la-la-la)
(Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah)

[Chorus]
Touch electric, through my veins
Touch electric, break the chains
Feel the pulse beneath my skin
Let the night rush rushing in
(Electric, electric, rushing in)

[Outro]
Every cell is singing now
Every cell is singing now
(La-la-la)
Feel the transformation
(Transformation)
[Bass rises to crescendo]

Room of Nowhere

Theme: A young woman attends a 1989 Acid House warehouse rave. She is tripping on LSD and her perceptions of reality are heavily altered. She experiences: Dissociation, bliss, time loses shape, loops within loops
Title: Hourless Oracle