(Sound of needle being ripped across a vinyl 45.)

Well, not exactly.

(Scratch, pop, hiss. Turn up the spacey, distorted guitar intro of the 1970 Norman Greenbaum hit, "Spirit in the Sky.")

Let's set the record straight. The nation's first music video show didn't start in New York in 1981, and it wasn't MTV. An early chapter in the video revolution happened right here in Atlanta, over a fleeting, nine-month period in 1970, when a group of young disc jockeys and film producers (eventually with the help of Ted Turner) launched a 28-hour weekend block of music videos called "Now Explosion."

Now Explosion (echo: explosion, explosion, explosion, explosion...).

Screen image from video

Imagine the psychedelia of Austin Powers blended with the trippy light shows of Filmore West with a little "Laugh-In" bikini dancing sprinkled into the mix: Hippies frolicking in Piedmont Park to the Plastic Ono Band's "Instant Karma." Traffic speeding past the Varsity to the sounds of "Vehicle" by the Ides of March. Bikini clad young girls -- surrounded by floating blobs of paisley -- dancing to Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Lookin' Out My Back Door" at the Channel 36 studios.

"I was 16 and thought it was the closest thing to rock 'n' roll heaven that I would ever get," says 47-year-old Alice Walker of Gay, Ga. "I can still hear my mother saying, 'Are you watching that rock music show? Turn it down!' I envied the dancers."

One was 48-year-old advertising executive Lori Krinsky, who hopped in the car with a fringed-vested friend one night in 1970, wound up at the Channel 36 studios and danced on-air to "Spirit in the Sky."

"I don't remember much," she says with a laugh. "It was kind of cool. We waited for hours, then they said, 'Come on in and dance.' They did that weird photography that shows just your shadow and outline in psychedelic colors. What a riot."

Screen image from video

The mere mention of the words "Now Explosion'' send Dan Turner, a 47-year-old jazz pianist from Conyers, into a retro stream of consciousness: "The fog lifts. ... Lazy days sitting around watching TV. ... My friend in knee-high moccasin boots. ... Staring at the background stuff on the screen all day in between runs to the Krystal. ... It was way ahead of MTV."

Sam Judd, 47, of Douglasville says, "When MTV came along, I tried to explain that this type of programming had already been tried in Atlanta, and no one remembered it but me."

Just how did one of the nation's first music video experiments wind up in a then-sleepy Southern town? The story, which stretches from March to November of 1970, goes something like this:

"Now Explosion'' was the brainchild of a flamboyant Philadelphia businessman named Bob Whitney. With a background in radio (reportedly as a producer for Dick Clark), Whitney came up with the idea of broadcasting Top 40 radio on television -- TV you could not just hear but watch. Or as the promotional brochure said at the time, "TV so turned on you can't turn it off."

After supposedly bankrolling $25,000 to launch his concept, Whitney tapped two Atlanta DJs, "Skinny" Bobby Harper and Bob "Todd" Thurgaland, to host the show and introduce records. The two had been top jocks on WQXI-AM ("Quixie in Dixie"), Atlanta's only rock 'n' roll station throughout the '60s, and were primed for the job.

Gavin Averill / Special Former "Now Explosion" host Bobby Harper.

"We were the first video deejays," says Harper, 61, a communications consultant for the Georgia Student Finance Commission (HOPE scholarship program). "We didn't have videos handed to us; there was no such thing back then. We had to make them all."

Thurgaland, 54, who lives in Ocala, Fla., recalls the days when UHF stations (these were the high-band channels long before cable) were desperate for programming to fill their air time, especially on weekends. "We used the studios at Channel 36 during the middle of the night when the station was dark. It was a nonunion facility, so we could play with all the equipment."

Getting the music was no problem. "Now Explosion" simply used records of the day (without notifying any of the licensing agencies, such as BMI. It was the era of love and peace, after all). But getting visuals to air over the songs was a challenge.

The job of creating the look of "Now Explosion" was handed to a 28-year-old television producer named R.T. Williams. The brash young broadcaster had begun his career on a more traditional route, as a producer for Atlanta's Channel 11. But when Whitney laid out his new concept of a music video program, Williams took the bait.

"It was so incredibly simple, but so different," he says today, peering over a pair of glasses under a head of graying hair. "You never know that history is being made when it's being made. We were really the first to do that kind of interpretive video to music."

Williams quit his mainstream job, grabbed a Norelco PCP 90 portable camera and starting filming. His job: to produce five original videos for each song aired on the program.

"When you look at music videos today, keep in mind that MTV doesn't produce any of this stuff. We had to hatch and fry the eggs that we made."

Williams and crew turned to the psychedelic images of the day, and their own imaginations, to churn out what amounts to an estimated 1,700 hours of primitive music videos. Many were filmed on location in Atlanta: street scenes of girls in jeans and gingham dresses from the "hippie" district between 10th and 14th streets; shots of students in big Afros coming and going at area high schools; politically themed segments, such as "Bridge Over Troubled Water," played over film of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech; dancers gyrating in front of a blue screen filled with special effects -- girls that Todd says he and Harper "picked up down on Peachtree."

Marla Brose / Special WKTK Talk Show Host Bob "Todd" Thurgaland helped pioneer the "Now Explosion."

"We would carry an empty, two-inch videotape canister with an ABC-TV sticker on it, and ask pretty young girls if they wanted to come down to Channel 36 at midnight and put on skimpy outfits and dance," Thurgaland says with a laugh. "And they did."

Occasionally, Top 40 acts would drop by the studio to lip sync their hits, such as Kenny Rogers and the First Edition, who interpreted "Just Dropped In (to See What Condition My Condition Was In)" for "Now Explosion." "Oh, yeah, I remember it," Rogers says. "I had this long hair, a big bushy beard, rose-colored glasses and an earring. I actually thought I looked good."

But this was no "American Bandstand."

With no blueprint to go by, the crew literally made up the groovy look of "Now Explosion" with a series of special effects that Williams still gets excited about today.

"There was the 'rhythm zoom,' where the camera would zoom in and out real fast," he recalls. "Then we did the 'quad split,' where we'd show the same image in all four corners of the screen. The 'reverse chroma key' was like they do now with weathermen in front of the weather map, where we would have a negative outline of a dancer."

"Now Explosion" was on the air only a few weeks when trouble erupted. According to the then-staffers, the company that owned Channel 36 was threatening to take over the show. Williams remembers that Whitney called a secret meeting in a room at the Emory Sheraton Hotel on Clifton Road.

"It was a raid-planning party," he says. "We rented some trucks, and went over to the station [Channel 36] about 3 a.m. It was a driving rainstorm, and there were still two people working in master control. We went in and started hauling out all our tapes and loading them into the trucks. Finally, a guy got wise to us and picked up the phone. Next thing, we saw the lights and heard the sirens."

But the "Now Explosion" crew somehow avoided the law, and smuggled the tapes to Florida.

Days later, the program premiered on Channel 17, a new UHF station owned by an entrepreneur named Ted Turner. Turner quickly signed on to air "Now Explosion" all weekend, and also agreed to dub the videos in his studio on West Peachtree Street for syndication across the country.

Eventually, "Now Explosion" wound up on 111 UHF stations, including stations in Philadelphia and New York. But like the Woodstock era that spawned it, its life was short. Mounting bills and an incredible demand for video footage caused Whitney and crew to throw in the towel in November 1970.

Williams went on to manage production for the Channel 17 superstation, WTBS. Harper worked as a spokesperson for Delta Air Lines for many years, while Thurgaland and his son started a video production company in Florida. No one knows what happened to Whitney, who was last seen in San Francisco around 1974.

As for the "Now Explosion" tapes, they wound up in a garage in Coral Gables, Fla., where they were reportedly destroyed in a flood around 1972. It's not likely any of the dubs exists either. Williams says they were shot on expensive two-inch, quad video tape.

"A 10-hour reel cost $20,000," he says, noting that television stations were likely to tape over the footage as soon as it was obsolete.

Thurgaland still owns a one-hour tape of the show, which he dug out of a box in the attic to share a snippet with The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Williams once had two reels, but left them in his office at WTBS when he departed in 1984. "Who knows what happened to them," he says today.

Though just a blip on the pop culture meter, "Now Explosion" left lasting impressions. In the early '80s, a funky, kitschy local band, led by Clare Butler, adopted the name and toured the East Coast. Others who watched the show say it had lasting effects on them, too.

"I was in the seventh grade, and can still see some of the videos," recalls Leza Young, 42, of Chamblee. "Bobby Sherman dancing in front of four large studio panels to 'Easy Come, Easy Go.' The clip for 'Little Green Bag.' The woman dancing to Freda Payne's 'Band of Gold.' The poor hitchhiker standing in the rain in 'Kentucky Rain.' So much of my taste in music developed as a result of that show -- I now have a degree in rock radio and was a deejay for several years."

"I think one reason I got so interested in music and do what I do today came from sitting around all weekend watching that thing," says Atlanta concert promoter Peter Conlon. "They played songs that you couldn't hear on the radio here, like 'Little Green Bag' and 'Fire' by Arthur Brown. It was kind of like FM before everybody had FM radio."