The year was 1981. Bette Davis eyes topped the charts and poppy synthesizers dominated every retro jukebox in the nation. Like sand dripping over the grease stain on a Buick, the time for the filthy pleasure that was rock and roll of the 1970s had run out. But there was still one place in America where guitar riffs could blow you away and melt your face, a place where real rock music still lived, and that was just after the Magic Tea Cup ride.
For a glorious summer, Disneyland California tried something different with its musical performances. It’s the sacred, vomit-filled halls that are home to the biggest band that ever came up on a It’s Small World dingy 5 minutes ago. Manufactured by Walt Disney Records, Halyx (pronounced hah-licks because this is sexy Vernor Vinge territory) shouldn’t combine the hip-buzzing glam rock of KISS with the proggy sci-fi aesthetic of … war of stars, that would be too high a praise, but an early attempt Star crash Cosplay.
And Halyx’s Mickey Mouse love machines all went out.
Keyboardist Tom Miller was flying around in a golf cart that was tricked like a keyboard-powered spaceship. The great bassist Roger Freeman was dressed like the unholy offspring of Chewbacca and a panda. Tony Caputo, drummer with acrobat (emphasis on all these words), swung around on a rope disguised as a space goblin. While Bruce Gowdy and Lora Mumford in full Xanadu Insignia pierced the veil of prog rock with their alien shredders or angelic screeches.