Identity Disc No. 1: Evergreen “Tomorrow Never Knows (Ralphie Dee Vocal)"

A.K.A. The best Beatles song I couldn't remember

Ever have a track that meant the world to you, only to find out that there 50 copies on discogs for $1.50 and the YouTube for the song has only been listened to a few hundred times? While it is strange when something you have a real and special connection to seems unappreciated by others, as a DJ, discoveries like this are exhilarating. I think to myself, “I get to be the one to put this recording into a context that will hopefully lead a new group people to appreciate it. I get to drop a needle on its decades-old grooves and activate it in the blend. I get to share it, and in the process create a whole set of subjective experiences around it.” My “Identity Disc” column is meant to record both the subjective experiences I have attached to certain records and to also tell the stories of the creation of these etched grooves, to the extent I can find that information. 

The concept of an Identity Disc is borrowed from the 1984 original Disney film Tron. For me, Tron suggests a modern myth I attach to the idea of a record as a etched rendering of information—much of it personal—which can be a catalyst for change in our world. In the film, a group of animate programs is attempting to circumvent and reset a dominating network control system (MCP/Master Control Program) which is self-serving and corrupt. The MPC is the programming equivalent of a fascist dictator. Each program in the system carries on their back a disc containing all the information from their lives. In the film, the identity disc is often a weapon hurled at opponents, but in the penultimate scene the heroic program, Tron, releases his disc into a uplink tube during a magical ritual that allows him to connect with his human programmer—his ancestor named “Alan-One.” In the process Tron receives a message which includes a code embedded into his disc that allows him to defeat the MCP and bring freedom to the system.

My One-of-a-kind “Yori Connection Ritual” jean jacket by artist Amai Rodríguez.

For the first Identity Disc column I wanted to pick a record to which I have attached considerable personal meaning and for which little has been previously written. The record is a cover of a Beatles’ song, “Tomorrow Never Knows” by a 90s dance outfit called “Evergreen.” This pressing includes four remixes built for heart-open rave and club experiences. I found this special record at Bikini Waxx, a record store in Berlin. The disc was thrown into the bargain bin implicitly reserved for the worst records, a veritable treasure trove for a discordian DJ like me. The grooves were filthy and the inside jacket looked like it had been marinated in coffee. 

I didn’t recognize the song until I played it a few times in the club, which to this day feels like some type of intervention since my Mom was a huge Beatles fan and the original recording of the song is actually one of the band’s most famous songs. The song is featured on “Revolver” which is my Mom’s favorite album by the group—she owns an original pressing.  John Lennon’s bandmate George Harrison quipped some years after the recording process that Lennon didn’t really know what he was talking about when he wrote the song. Harrison’s suggestion was basically that the lyrics were a spiritual dilettante’s misguided poetry about meditation and transcendence. Whatever the case, the lyrics are evocative and the original recording is even notable for its reversed drums and genuinely trippy vibe. That’s all fine and good, and I won’t debate the merit of the Beatles here or talk about John Lennon’s musical legacy and wrongdoings. The simple truth is that when I bought the Evergreen version and started playing it, I was cheerfully clueless it was a cover song or that it was supposed to be about transcendental meditation. It was a message on IG from a dancer that finally clued me in that it was a Beatles’ cover.

As previously mentioned, the version of “Tomorrow Never Knows” that I found at Bikini Waxx is by the artist “Evergreen,” which my psilocybin-rewired brain initially mistook as being the name of the song. I was convinced the song was intentionally about the unflinching eternal power of the Earth. I thought to myself, “this is wonderful, I love the idea that our planet is (for)ever green and stronger than we think.” But my interpretation simply was not the original meaning of the Beatles song. In his lyrics John Lennon hints at the idea of a hidden wisdom and perhaps this in the end is an apt analogy for Motherbeat and my underlying belief about what happens if we let ourselves connect deeply with this planet we occupy. But my subjective interpretation is just that, a meaning derived—not intended. My interpretation was influenced by my personal feelings, tastes, and opinions.

The special thing about poetry and lyrics are that they are actually intended to be interpreted. Subjective interpretation — i.e. attaching our own personal meaning — is part of what makes poetry art rather than a mere rendering of ideas or a novel. Here are the lyrics to the song:

Turn off your mind relax and float down stream

It is not dying, it is not dying

Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void,

It is shining, it is shining.

Yet you may see the meaning of within

It is being, it is being

Love is all and love is everyone

It is knowing, it is knowing

And ignorance and hate mourn the dead

It is believing, it is believing

But listen to the colour of your dreams

It is not leaving, it is not leaving

So play the game "Existence" to the end

Of the beginning, of the beginning

After we left Bikini Waxx I cleaned the 30 year-old cover of this 50 year-old song and hatched a plan. Octo Octa and I were setting intentions for an upcoming set at Panorama Bar. She and I always take turns starting our sets together—-it is a chain we never break. We approach playing Panorama Bar with seriousness because we feel the mix of life and death energy in the space is palatable. The people who come to dance with us often come with a purpose, rather than just a desire to be entertained. We try to honor that and amplify those intentions.

Evergreen's "Tomorrow Never Knows" on Next Plateau Records Inc. (1993)

If a symphony’s overture is meant to quickly covey the themes of a long piece of music at the beginning of a performance, then starting the set with “Tomorrow Never Knows” was certainly an overture; a communication of our musical manifesto for our four hour set that night. As the bassline punched-in I held in my heart as deeply as I could the idea that “the Earth is not dying. Don’t give up on her. Don’t give up on the animals or each other.” I closed my eyes and tried to let the emotion in the song create an image. I listened to the lyrics and thought “the rivers are polluted and suffering but they can come back if we let them.” The dance we had with everyone that night was so intense as to be almost overwhelming. We ended the set dripping in sweat, dehydrated and worked to the bone in the best way. It took hours to rehydrate. The date was February 29, 2020. 

The date is important. I couldn’t have known this was my last set at a big club before the pandemic and our last deeply spiritual set for a long time—meaning our last time playing for ravers on a proper system. But everyone was reading the news and the possibility of returning home was on our minds. We took the mushroom. It was a beautiful trip. I saw what looked like hieroglyphics moving and dancing on the back wall. I created ecstatic art with Maya and the dancers and it was one of the more powerful experiences I have had behind a pair of turntables. 10 days later, we rushed home from Hebden Bridge in the UK on account of Trump’s border closing order and stayed there for the better part of 18 months. 

The quarantine was hard on everyone. Some of us still made art and had people around us we loved, but even under the best circumstances ravers were for the most part cut off from their communities and rituals. Humans are not meant to live in boxes. No animals are. But I did notice something. As did others. Nature started to rebound. Less human activity was a moment of repose for our planet as hard as is it was on all of us. 

I kept thinking about “Tomorrow Never Knows” and our experience of community at Panorama Bar. And I watched the world change around me. During the early months of the pandemic I read an article about Chernobyl which suggested that certain predictions about nuclear fallout effects were off a bit because many animals were not just living in the uninhabitable zone, they were thriving. Against predictions, certain species were doing better in the so-called Chernobyl Exclusion Zone than before the meltdown, large mammals—e.g. gray wolves—among them. The animals were thriving because the impact of excluding humans from encroaching on the land somewhat threw-off the predicted radiation effects of the nuclear disaster. For certain species, like large mammals, a human presence was in a sense worse than fallout. What a grim message to us all!

But this was also a teaching moment. Commentators and scientists persuasively argue that we are already past the tipping point in the ecological crisis, and this is likely the case. But for a moment in all our lives during the pandemic our beautiful planet did show us that she could be evergreen—-we might have changed the biosphere but our Mother planet is resilient and can maybe still heal in ways if we let her. But that’s only if we don’t give up; if somehow we find a way to quit the never ending cycle of short games we play as humans with short lives; if we transform man’s nihilism and blinkered plans to do things like colonize Mars into concern and action here on Earth. Cancer kills its host because it can’t understand the consequences of its actions. But we can, at least on the individual level. At the species level I am less sure it is possible. I have big dreams tempered by realism and even a cynicism toward society at large. Individuals and small groups can demonstrate great compassion and perspective but this clarity and long-term vision rarely extends to the priorities of entire modern societies, countries and governments — too many short games are prioritized at the macro-social level.

In the intervening years since the end of the lockdowns, I think I have only played “Tomorrow Never Knows” once. To me the message needs to be received for me to want to play it and I don’t think all dance events carry the same level of intention. The last time I brought it with me and unlocked its message was at a special renegade thrown by Oakland’s Envelope Soundsystem. The group hosted an unlicensed rave in a Sequoioideae forest under 1,500-2,000 year old giant Redwood trees. As far as I know we didn’t didn’t leave a trace behind. The lights, the soundsystem, and the ceramic alter used at the party were crafted by hands; trans hands. I played under a pseudonym and so did Octa. For that night only we were “2 3 DeeJay” and “Dee Sampla” (respectively), carrying with us messages of hope to our unfairly targeted yet resilient community. 

Flyer for the Envelop Soundsystem Rave in the forest.

I tried to learn more about the group Evergreen in the process of writing this, the premier edition of “Identity Disc”, but I didn’t find much. The song was released in 1993 on US dance label Next Plateau and the singer’s name is Jennifer Hamdan Lewis. According to the label, she is “Evergreen.” It seems as though “Evergreen” was a vehicle for her to sing this cover song and not a performing group because Evergreen had no other singles and no album followed the release of “Tomorrow Never Knows.” On remix duties for my favorite version was DJ and producer Ralphie Dee from Brooklyn, New York, whose career started with disco and continued into the rave era. His remix certainly is a compelling bridge between these musical movements which are separated by time, stylistic developments in dance music and changes to musical technology. I remember Ralphie Dee headlining hardcore/Gabber parties in Chicago during the 1990s (see my original flyer for Dee Day 2 below). The cover by Evergreen was at the time of writing listed in only two Discogs groups, both of them compilations of tracks played by me and Octo Octa. A little synchronicity appeared when I was doing this research because according to the runout etching, the mastering house we use for T4T, called TRUTONE, did the vinyl mastering 30 years ago for Evergreen.

Ralphie Dee headlining "DEE DAY 2" on October 28, 1995 in Chicago

In my daydreams, I like to imagine that playing the record at Panorama Bar was an act of conjoinment; a magical act. It brought the power of those etched grooves to life in the present moment, and in doing so called upon us to reject the distinction between that which is objective and that which is subjective and instead just focus on what the song could mean, if we let it.

If you want to share anything about the people involved in recording this cover, it’s reception, or your experience of the song, I would love to hear it. Please don’t hesitate to shoot me an email at journalofmotherbeat@gmail.com. 

- Eris Drew