Would the Beatles have always been an innocuous group of cheery little chaps until one of them (probably John) introduced acid to the rest of the group?

Two things emerged from the 1960s that would remain a constant presence in the popular culture radar: rock ‘n’ roll and drugs.

It is evident that both existed prior to this time, but something took hold then that would yield the albums that remain some of the defining music of all time and would take us to that proverbial “other place.”

You know, that place where we giggle a lot, where lights look pretty, where we get kind of weird. That place where every sentence starts off as “What if, like …” or “I feel like …” and usually ends with a triumphant “man”?

If Elvis sexualized music in the 1950s, then we have John Lennon, Jim Morrison and Jimi Hendrix to thank for bridging the chemical-creative gap for music in the 1960s and the early 1970s.

Were the grass greener and the acid stronger, or were they shamans of a cultural revolution, destined to emerge at a specific time in music history, ushering in sounds that would alter the cultural mindscape forever?

Would the Beatles have always been an innocuous group of cheery little chaps until one of them (probably John) introduced acid to the rest of the group? Could Morrison still have worked audiences into the point of manic frenzy if he wasn’t filled on mescaline and LSD?

Maybe Pink Floyd wasn’t operating on a head full of hallucinogens when the band made “Dark Side Of The Moon.” Maybe they just bypassed that creative filter to enter that place where music became the drug, a place where they could go without incurring all that totally bummer atrophied brain tissue.

As time passed, and as the seminal figures of rock ‘n’ roll fell to their vices, the relationship of music and drugs changed as well. Instead of remaining the transcendental, whimsical ticket to ride, pop stars free based or injected themselves straight into an obituary in Rolling Stone.

Out were the acid-rock anthems, the stoned choruses of Jefferson Airplane and The Doors, and the unified optimism that rock ‘n’ roll could save the world. In came the coked-out discos of the mid- to late-1970s, and the nihilistic punk rock of around that same time, exacerbated by heroin use that would later claim several key figures of the movement.

The 1980s saw the emergence of hip-hop, heavy metal and glam rock. And true to the melting pot of genres that cranked out the prevailing hits at the time, so was the diversity of chemicals consumed.

In the early 1990s, there came grunge, fronted by bands like Nirvana, Soundgarden and Alice In Chains. Though grunge was a blatant middle finger to the shallow absurdity of glam, the movement fell to the usual vices, namely heroin, with Alice In Chains frontman Layne Staley becoming the latest member of the “I died for Rock ‘n’ Roll club.”

Taking it all into scope, the creative, mind-expanding synthesis of music and drugs became something of a loose standard. The fallout from the communal, right-on vibes of the late ’60s and early ’70s set the stage for future music icons and their devoted fans to follow and succumb to.

Music and drugs don’t have to go together, but as history reveals, for better or worse, it is just a relationship that has repeated itself over time, regardless of consequence or how tragic the example.

But the question remains, do we really need that joint, pill, line or blotter to get to that “other place” so we can see if “Dark Side Of The Moon” and “The Wizard of Oz” really do synch up?

Or is music that in itself, a mental odyssey through another world so we can come back to our own refreshed with a unique perspective?

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