It can seem a little funny word psichedelia, forty years after. Funny to associate these adventurous bluesmen to a sense of the altered conscience, to the projection of imaginary and unknown worlds on the screen of our small room. Nevertheless, nevertheless it has been a time in which the four heroes of Us and Them divided small rooms and fortunes with Robert Wyatt and his accomplices, even before that concept album fuss became a good deal.

This record has repercussions everywhere, to certify clairvoyance and value. The image of a different mind from the one required for the Times crosswords, preferred from the manager of the City, is still alive and beloved in Albion. And it is just a well executed job indeed, loaded with suggestions of old, beyond technological and compositive innovations, that won to these young hipsters approvals and viati from large pieces part of classic-contemporary music, like they still say in forgotten parts of some old conservatory.

Some much beloved feelings, I said, from the altered minds that shook themselves in the rave of the millenium and of which I have told elsewhere, they have roots here, in these heartbreaking stratocaster, these electronic little organs never heard before, in this pervasive and soft drumming, in the cover image, the less psichedelico and perfectly such, indeed.

Then time of the rock operas came, of stadiums and of the giant media hype, something for all in that decade in which the record managers they made fortunes worthy of insurers, mythology only apparently interrupted from the strali of the Pistols and the Clash came. Today it remains the small icon of Lulubelle III that me addresses interrogative and I cannot withhold a smile. Other times, less astute, other spaces.