The Invasion of Thunderbolt Pagoda

Exists in an alternative reality where the 60s counter-culture, with all its drug use and eastern-influenced exploitation, has warped itself into a shapeless mass. A hallucinatory nightmare made flesh, residing in the thin membrane that separates conscious thought and impulse. The same partition where "peace and love" mantras and the occult stands shoulder-width apart. Absurd and perverse. Pulsating, droning, dissolving, turning into liquid.

Alternatively, it's just a bunch of hippies flailing around after a bad acid trip. Either way, It's perplexing all the same. Whether you love or loath it, The Invasion of Thunderbolt Pagoda will likely leave an impression.

Underground psychonaut/poet/mystical vagabond Ira Cohen's poetry and experimental camera techniques laid over the top of some fantastic third eye clatter from avant-drone luminaries Angus MacLise, Henry Flint, and Tony Conrad (among others). The previous sentence will tell you all you need to know about how well this half hour will fit into your life; you're only going to get out of it what you put into it and maybe you find some cosmic wisdom therein, or maybe it's just something strange and intense to watch under the influence, or maybe you just see a bunch of stoned hippies flitting around a park with incomprehensible noises in the background. Your choice.