The summer of 1967 was in full bloom. Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band had just hit the shelves, reshaping everything we thought pop could be. Across the Atlantic, the West Coast music scene was exploding, and San Francisco was now the world’s hippie capital — a kaleidoscope of colour, freedom, and sound.
But Britain was hardly standing still. In London’s clubs and studios, the underground scene was flourishing. Bands like Pink Floyd, The Action, and Cream were twisting pop into strange new shapes — shimmering with feedback, fuzz, and phasing.
Let’s rewind to June 1967, when a handful of British singles — some iconic, others overlooked — defined the technicolour edge of the Swinging Sixties.
Pink Floyd – See Emily Play
Pink Floyd’s second single arrived only months after their debut, Arnold Layne, but it felt like a portal into another dimension. “See Emily Play” remains one of the crown jewels of British psychedelia — a dreamy blend of whimsy, electronics, and eerie charm.
When it landed, New Musical Express reviewer Derek Johnson wrote that it was “crammed with weird oscillations, reverberations, electronic vibrations and fuzzy rumblings.” Beneath the sonic experimentation, though, there was “a pleasant mid-tempo tune that’s appealingly harmonized.” He predicted it would register — and it certainly did.
The Action – Shadows and Reflections
This single should have been a monster hit. With a sparkling melody, lush harmonies, and production by George Martin himself, Shadows and Reflections had all the right ingredients. Critics loved it — Melody Maker’s Nick Jones praised its “harpsichord and horn breaks” and “groovy rhythmic backing,” calling it a catchy, danceable gem.
But despite glowing reviews, it somehow missed the charts. Even George Martin was baffled years later: “The Action were an amazingly talented outfit… I’m baffled they did not achieve superstardom.”
Cream – Strange Brew
Few tracks from 1967 capture the era’s electricity quite like Strange Brew. Raw, hypnotic, and heavy with Clapton’s fuzzy blues guitar, it’s a song that almost hums in your head long after it ends.
NME called it “moody, mean and raw, with a nagging insistent beat that gnaws at the brain.” Even Lulu, reviewing for Disc magazine, couldn’t resist noting: “Hairy Clapton really has gone all Hendrix, hasn’t he?”
It peaked at No. 17, spending nine weeks on the UK charts — a trippy blues-rock classic.
The Gods – Come On Down to My Boat
Here’s a lost gem worth digging up. The Gods’ “Come On Down to My Boat” may not have charted, but its line-up is pure rock-royalty in embryo. A young Mick Taylor (later of the Rolling Stones) handled guitar before leaving to replace Peter Green in John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers. Greg Lake (future King Crimson and ELP) and Lee Kerslake (future Uriah Heep) also passed through the band’s ranks.
Their version sails along on a fuzzy guitar riff and swirling Hammond organ — psychedelic pop perfection that slipped through the cracks.
Chris Farlowe – Moanin’
Best known for his 1966 chart-topper Out of Time, Chris Farlowe dove headfirst into psychedelia with this cover of Art Blakey’s jazz classic Moanin’. Producer Mike Hurst threw everything at the mix — fuzz guitar, sitar, and brass — creating one of the strangest (and most fascinating) jazz-psych hybrids ever recorded.
NME called it “an exciting hit sound,” even if it didn’t quite take off in Britain. It did, however, find a home in German charts — and it still sounds wild today.
The Syn – Grounded
Before Yes became prog-rock pioneers, Chris Squire and Peter Banks were in The Syn — a psychedelic London band whose B-side Grounded was every bit as good as their A-side, Created by Clive.
A month later, they’d write 14th Hour Technicolour Dream, named after the legendary all-night happening at London’s Alexandra Palace — a key snapshot of the city’s psychedelic awakening.
The Small Faces – Here Come the Nice
With Here Come the Nice, the Small Faces perfectly captured the scene’s mix of innocence and indulgence. The song, a veiled ode to a drug dealer, somehow slipped past the censors to reach No. 12 in the charts.
NME called it “a goodie… with fascinating harmonies and controlled guitar work,” adding that “it should see them in the Top 10.” They weren’t wrong — it was a defining moment for the band.
The Attack – Colour of My Mind
Another band straddling the Mod and psychedelic scenes, The Attack delivered Colour of My Mind — a swirling, underrated slice of London psych. John Peel championed them on his Perfumed Garden radio show, but fame never came. Today, their singles sound like secret treasures from the underground.
London – London Social Degree
Studio trickery was at its height in ’67, and London’s Social Degree pushed it even further with layers of phasing and echo. Record Mirror praised its “way-out, adventurous” feel — calling it a “British-simulated West Coast sound” that somehow worked. A cult classic in miniature.
The Sorrows – Pink, Purple, Yellow and Red
After minor UK success with Take a Heart, The Sorrows relocated to Italy — and their June ’67 single was released in both English and Italian. With surreal lyrics, fuzz guitar, and pounding rhythm, NME said it had “an insistent thump beat” and a “surrealistic” feel. It didn’t chart at home, but found fans abroad — proof that psychedelia transcended borders.
Episode Six – Morning Dew
Finally, Morning Dew by Episode Six — the band that gave the world Ian Gillan and Roger Glover, later of Deep Purple. Their take on the folk-rock standard glows with eerie atmosphere and haunting harmonies. Record Mirror admitted it took a couple of listens to click, but once it did, “it stands distinct chart chances.”
The Summer Britain Turned Psychedelic
June 1967 was a kaleidoscope month — a time when British music went wild with colour, sound, and imagination. Some of these records hit the charts; others faded into obscurity. But together, they tell the story of a moment when the ordinary turned extraordinary — when every fuzz pedal and backwards tape loop seemed to promise a new world.
