Wednesday, December 28, 2005


Things start innocently enuff on "Her Shadow Ate The Ground": wordless, wailing. witchy Renate Krotenschwanz style vocals over a hestitant, plodding electric bass-line and bubbling AMT-ish electronics...sounds a little like Duul circa '69/'70, but gentler, less propulsive...

But then, on the track "Ur", things really start getting out of hand: Michael Donnelly (of Brothers of The Occult Sisterhood and Soarwhole notoriety) finally succeeds in travelling back in Time, but, somewhere around 1970, he encounters something truly terrifying in the time-flow...a dark, blurred, gash-like wound in the quantal-membranes that hold reality together...a storm of bruises purple the air around us and threaten to derail Michael's musical's scary stuff, like a trip that's starting to turn sour...stop-film animation of fruit & veg rotting and furring indigo oil-bubbles burst and spit, leaking toxic colours into the air around us...there's a vast malignant stain spreading outwards thru Time itself... This is incredibly beautiful in places, but it's also frightening...the sounds are sooo immersive that, at points, it's easy to forget that you're actually listening to music...

Some lazy reference-points (for people who like that kinda thing) might be v. early Popol Vuh and Ash Ra Tempel...Klaus Schultz back when he was a drummer...."Electronic Meditation" era TD w/ gtr/bass/drum-driven Post-psych/early Kosmische freak-outs....and there's a tiny ripe dribble of Butthole Surfers in there too...

"Ra" is frantic free-rock clatter, a head-fit onna drum-kit, back-lit by John Cale's solo Vox organ explorations circa 1966. It's the finale of every great Freak-Rock record being played at exactly the same time; it's The Patti Smith Group playing the last 9 seconds of "My Generation" over and over again as their guitars are stretched out of shape and sucked out across the event horizon of a black hole, landing in a walled garden full of gongs and chiming accoustic instruments where everything looks like a solarised photograph...the sky here is violet and black, an inky aberration...then some sort of insane strummy accoustic singalong breaks out: dark, psychopathic machine-elf chatter on some drug that I've never fucking heard of..."Hunky Dory" re-recorded during a ketamine binge, the ghost of Syd Barrett still trapped in that bloody wardrobe, unable to get out. Bags of rusty nails are dropped, dustbin lids scraped and hit, voices ek-ek-ek-echo in and out of wavering wobble-carpets of e.gtr feedback and a ragged, Raga fuzz-organ sound hijacked from ? & The Mysterions. Amazing.

"Sunrim" is cloud-cushion organ-chords that slowly evolve into Terry Riley-esque drib/drob overlapping patterns, counterpointed by accidental microphone chummfpts, white-noise swirls and an eerie synthetic whistling sound that disappears down a sloooow waterfall and emerges out into a weird gently-whirling Duul-ish soundscape involving a revolving gtr, clattering percussion and some echoplex'd electronics that rotate like a cosmic tumble-drier, slowly building up into some serious ultra-dimensional glissando-geetar action...

Man, I could talk about this all week.

What's really incredible to me is that Michael and his mates are sat out in the back-end of beyond, somewhere in New South Wales, Aus, making great psychedelic free-rock music, week in, week out...and like Wooden Wand & The Vanishing Voice, howcum these people are so prolific, yet their music is so constantly/consistently original and engaging...apart from (duh!) the blindingly-obvious fact that they're all talented, righteous motherfuckers. So support 'em, y'hear me!

Available, as ever, from the terrific MYMWLY Blog-site.


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