During my fourth visit to the isolation tank at Rutgers, I spent what seemed to be three days in the Amsterdam of 1951. Awash in pre-beat culture that was discovering that xylophones can be sexy and that a lightly tapped drum was better than one hammered ferociously, it was a pleasant place to be. Then there were the episodes. I'd be sitting in a coffeeshop corner, tying off, when suddenly strange noises and beats would arrive upon the scene and integrate. Were they ever there?? Spaceships flying out of my coffee-cup. A woman under a lone spotlight warbling into a large chrome microphone. Lounge-beats metamorphosizing into beat-box. Drum 'n' bass making a brief appearance. Trippy and comfortable, I began to like the episodes and settled in. The sound of the place was varied and truly original, but never imposing, never angry or harsh, always delivered smoothly, cafe latte, thank you.

Whoa. Just woke up with my headphones on. Rutgers?! Anyway, try to imagine the beat poetry hangouts exhauasted and ready to close, their music juiced up with a shot of techno and beat, still sleepy but with a special juice that keeps the coffee flowing.

-James P. Wisdom