Posts Tagged ‘Acid Rock’

Timmy’s Organism

The garage demons are runnin’ amok this fall as renown gutter necromancer with a telecaster Timmy Vulgar lays down a new slab of dust choked bile on hometown label Lo & Behold. Vulgar has never steered me wrong and, as he digs deeper into his Organism moniker, this band only becomes further entrenched as the brutal defensive pincer of his personal universe (see also: Human Eye, Clone Defects). Eating Colors culls together a few singles that seeped out of the swamp following the band’s brush with infamy as part of Third Man’s expanded roster, but it all careens together seamlessly into a prime slice of Detroit fuzz as the Organism’s fourth album proper.

Vulgar channels the specter of Don Van Vliet as he gargles acidic syllables over the Motor City’s true export – raw, unrefined, diesel-burning rock ‘n roll. He hoists his guitar like a sonic halberd, cutting down swaths of listeners swarming to the mecca of diseased fuzz that spews from the band’s aural wellspring. The Organism is best looked at indirectly, so as not to turn to stone on sight of the beast, but its best listened to at top volume, careening out of car windows and down cracked city blocks like an air raid siren of doom for all to hear. If ever there was a band that embodied, embraced and emboldened the idea that rock might open a mental portal to another plane, Timmy’s Organism is that band. The very blood of the band runs green with a radioactive pulse that’s melting minds with guitar vomit and on this latest slab, they’re bound to induce a nervous breakdown or two. This might be just what you need to sandblast the barnacles of 2017 from your system.





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Sundays & Cybele – “Butterfly’s Dream”

Tokyo’s Sundays & Cybele have amassed a catalog of grand psych that feeds on the expressive and expansive psych their forefathers wrought before them. They tore down the house on Heaven and are rebuilding it out of scorched timbers with the first cut of their latest, Chaos & Systems. As always, a commendable move to just launch out with a 9+ minute track as the peek into a new release. It seems natural for S&C though, working out acid flecked guitar solos over most of the track and burning it down like they’re submitting a resume for an Acid Mother’s Temple opening slot with each successive lick. The track isn’t untethered though, its parsing through the cosmos and driven by a half ton of amp fry, but the ship their driving is sleek and silver and cut like a bullet. If the rest of Chaos & Systems is half as explosive as this, then its still going to melt a few minds when it hits.

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Acid Mothers Temple

AMT resume their stance poking at the volcano of psych that they’ve had boiling for the better part of two decades now. Kawabata Makoto never fails to invoke the divine power of the psychedelic gods and here, he’s making no exceptions. They’re utilizing the benefit of space on the three longform tracks here, taking their time to build and crash each song like tiny cities turned to ash. The band digs in hard, with a flash of light and then roll deep into mantra territory on opener “Force in the Third System.” On this opening salvo they let things stretch and tumble, invoking bits of thunder and bouts of cinder then flip to backwards vocals sliding over droned and dropped sitar territory. They scrape the stratospheric bounce communications of space rock and dive back towards that welcomed fire with a tear-down of guitar fire and rhythm chug that levels the decks. Twenty minutes in the hands of AMT are never squandered, but the band take the task to wider skies on centerpiece “Nebulous Hyper Meditation.”

The second track eclipses the first, spanning over a half hour, it drops in with a cosmic float that pretty much invokes that title to the fullest extent before swapping the float for Kosmiche burble finding its footing in rhythm. The band chugs along on the rails without letting the beat drop for more than a minute or so. Their meditative state burns a lot hotter than most and under AMT’s watchful third eye any calming impulses start to smolder rather than melt. They close it out with a lonesome and almost mournful bit of space rock worship, bending the will of the six string cyclone to their own wicked wills. Years on there are those who may say that the Japanese collective have been pursuing the same psychedelic shred over the years, but in truth they’ve just been cracking universe one guitar riff at a time, scaling the mountains of madness only to bring fire back to those of us who are cold without it.




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