A rich percussive wash from Portland Oregon's Muscle andMarrow, this track builds an atmosphere of pulsing tension. My Fear evokes attitudes of early 80's goth combined in textures of mid nineties Shoegaze and Trip-hop. Lower the lights, take a deep breath and float away on this track.
Following on Dead Ghosts' tack sharp evocation of 13th Floor Elevators' garage psychedelia we throw it into MC5 Detroit style overdrive. King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard seem to perpetrate the primal mistake of hippie posturing, trying too hard. Their band name aches with "look-at-me-please" desperation and the only way to redeem it would bee to rock so hard the name does not matter because, a rose by any other name...
And they do.
King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard manage to screech and squeal and pulse and rush with fervid punk volume while maintaining a lush psychedelia
The wonderful privilege of creativity is not in providing what people want but in arriving with the thing no one asked for but which everyone needs. To wit, Dead Ghosts' eerily accurate evocation of mid sixties garage psychedelia. The sound of enthusiastic amateurs with a gland full of hallucinogens, an afternoon in an analogue recording studio and some gorgeous old amps with real spring reverb. It's how most of us grew up imagining the passage to another dimension would sound.
Black Vulpine is fronted by two female vocalists, which, when combined
with their particularly 90s influenced take on stoner rock, makes the
whole thing sort of sound like the answer to the question "What if
Veruca Salt was a sludge band instead?"
There was a particular guitar tone born in the 1980s on the midwestern and southern independent concert circuit. It can be almost directly traced back to the twin arrivals of REM and The Replacements. It was ringing and bright yet capable of shades of melancholy.
It got picked up and homogenized into the stereotypical mid-nineties guitar sound. It became the gen-ex totem associated with pop-lazy music tastes, bottoming out with the Friends and Party of Five TV themes.
But it is still possible to cycle back and reclaim it, to remember how fresh and enigmatic it could be in the hands of REM or how brash and confrontational when handled by Paul Westerberg et al.
These five songs run from 1985 to 1996 and are like worn flannel with the whiff of incense and old sweat in the threads, energetic memories to animate you right now.