Rock and roll is full of happy accidents. Some of the greatest records ever made happened because someone showed up late, someone else was high, and a third person just happened to have their amp turned up to eleven. That’s basically the story of the 1968 album Super Session. If you’re a crate-digger or a classic rock fanatic, you know the name. But if you haven't sat down with the Season of the Witch Al Kooper recording—the eleven-minute masterpiece that anchors the second half of that record—you are missing out on one of the most hypnotic moments in 1960s blues-rock.
It’s weird. Donovan wrote the song, sure. It’s a folk-psych classic about paranoia and the shifting vibes of the mid-sixties. But Al Kooper, the man who famously sneaked his way into playing the organ on Bob Dylan’s "Like a Rolling Stone," took that spooky little folk tune and turned it into a sprawling, urban, soul-drenched odyssey.
The Messy Birth of a Super Session
Al Kooper was in a weird spot in 1968. He had just been pushed out of Blood, Sweat & Tears, a band he basically built. He was working as an A&R man for Columbia Records, but he had an itch to record something that felt raw. Not over-produced. Not polished for the radio. Just guys playing in a room. He booked two days at Columbia's Los Angeles studios. He brought in Mike Bloomfield, the guitar god from the Paul Butterfield Blues Band.
They cut a bunch of tracks on day one. Then Bloomfield, who struggled with chronic insomnia and a growing heroin habit, literally vanished. He went back to San Francisco without telling anyone.
Kooper was panicked. He had studio time booked and no lead guitarist. He called Stephen Stills, who was currently between the breakup of Buffalo Springfield and the launch of Crosby, Stills & Nash. Stills showed up with his guitar and a much more experimental mindset. While the Bloomfield side of the record is pure blues, the Stills side—where Season of the Witch Al Kooper lives—is something else entirely. It's groovy. It’s dark. It feels like driving through a neon-lit city at 3:00 AM while you’re pretty sure someone is following you.
Why This Version Hits Different
Most people know the Donovan original. It’s jaunty in a creepy way. Then you have the covers by Vanilla Fudge or Joan Baez. They’re fine. But Kooper’s arrangement is a beast.
👉 See also: When Was Kai Cenat Born? What You Didn't Know About His Early Life
First, let's talk about the length. It’s 11 minutes and 7 seconds long. In 1968, that was a lifetime. But it doesn't feel long. It feels like a fever dream. Kooper uses a wah-wah pedal on the guitar parts—played by Stills—in a way that was pretty revolutionary for the time. This wasn't the "voodoo child" style of Hendrix; it was more rhythmic, more submerged.
Kooper’s vocals are surprisingly vulnerable here. He isn't a powerhouse singer like Steve Winwood or Robert Plant. He’s got this thin, slightly reedy New York voice. But for a song about the "season of the witch," that shakiness works. He sounds genuinely unnerved. When he sings about looking over his shoulder, you believe him.
The secret weapon, though? The brass.
Kooper added horns later, and honestly, it’s what makes the track. Most rock-blues jams from this era are just guitarists wailing until everyone gets tired. By layering in those soulful, punching horn lines, Kooper turned a psychedelic jam into a precursor for jazz-fusion. It bridges the gap between the gritty blues of the mid-sixties and the sophisticated, horn-heavy rock that would dominate the early seventies.
The Gear and the Gritty Details
If you're a gear head, the sound of this track is a masterclass in 1960s studio tech. We’re talking about an era before digital anything.
✨ Don't miss: Anjelica Huston in The Addams Family: What You Didn't Know About Morticia
- The Organ: Kooper is playing a Hammond B3. It’s thick. It’s Leslie-speaker drenched.
- The Guitar: Stephen Stills used a 1958 Gibson Flying V on these sessions, which he reportedly bought from Albert King. You can hear that biting, aggressive tone cutting through the wash of the organ.
- The Vibe: It was recorded on an 8-track machine. That forced them to make choices. You couldn't have 400 layers of junk. Every sound had to earn its spot.
The Cultural Impact of the Witch
Why does this specific recording still show up in movies and TV shows? Because it captures a specific type of tension. The summer of love was over. 1968 was a violent, chaotic year. The song reflects that transition from "peace and love" to "everything is falling apart."
When Kooper and Stills were in the studio, they weren't trying to make a hit. Super Session was actually one of the first "jam" albums ever to become a massive commercial success. It peaked at number 12 on the Billboard charts. It stayed on the charts for almost a year. People wanted this long-form, improvisational style. They wanted to hear the mistakes and the breathing.
The Season of the Witch Al Kooper version specifically influenced a generation of players. If you listen to early Santana or even some of the deeper cuts from The Allman Brothers, you can hear the DNA of this session. It’s the idea that a song can be a platform for exploration rather than just a verse-chorus-verse structure.
Misconceptions About the Super Session
A lot of people think Mike Bloomfield is on this track. He isn't. That’s a common mistake because his name is first on the album cover. But the album is split. Side A is Bloomfield. Side B is Stills.
Another misconception is that it was a live recording. It sounds live because the core rhythm section—Harvey Brooks on bass and Eddie Hoh on drums—was incredibly tight. Hoh is one of the "unsung heroes" of rock drumming. His work on this track is a masterclass in keeping a groove interesting for over ten minutes without ever overplaying. He stays in the pocket, but he’s constantly shifting the ghost notes on the snare to keep the tension building.
🔗 Read more: Isaiah Washington Movies and Shows: Why the Star Still Matters
How to Listen Today
If you’re going to listen to this, don't do it on crappy phone speakers. This is a "headphones on, lights off" kind of track.
You need to hear the way the stereo field moves. In the 2003 remaster, the separation is incredible. You can hear the exact moment Stills steps on the wah pedal. You can hear the grit in Kooper’s throat.
Honestly, the best way to experience it is on vinyl. There’s a certain warmth in the low end—especially Harvey Brooks’ bass line—that digital sometimes flattens out. The bass is the heartbeat of this version. It’s a descending line that just keeps pulling you down into the swamp.
Actionable Steps for Music Fans
If you want to dive deeper into this sound, don't stop at this one track.
- Check out the rest of Super Session. The opening track "Albert's Shuffle" is basically a blueprint for electric blues guitar.
- Look into the album "The Live Adventures of Mike Bloomfield and Al Kooper." It’s the follow-up. It’s messier, longer, and contains some of the most inspired (and occasionally frustrated) playing of that era.
- Compare versions. Play the Donovan original, then the Vanilla Fudge version, then the Kooper/Stills version. It’s a fascinating study in how arrangement can completely change the "meaning" of a song.
- Listen to Kooper’s "I’ll Love You More Than You’ll Ever Know." It’s from his time with Blood, Sweat & Tears. It shows his ability to blend soul and rock in a way that few others could at the time.
Al Kooper might not be a household name like Clapton or Hendrix to the average person on the street, but in the world of musicians, he’s a giant. He saw the potential in a folk song and turned it into a dark, funky masterpiece. The "witch" isn't just a character in the lyrics; it’s the atmosphere they conjured in that Los Angeles studio. It’s a moment in time that hasn't aged a day.