Wednesday, February 18, 2009

We

Dinosauric Futurobic
Black Balloon

We have a 9 minute song called '1971', and halfway through, you might start thinking you're there, back in the napalm panic and afro boogie, back when rock had just shaken off it's hippy bellbottom flower power and dosed itself on acid, war, and freaked out Alice Cooper records. It's riff rawk all right, but the riffs are jumpy, skittish, like the darting eyes of a flashback victim searching for a safe place to land, and the sun baked WE sound travels on a giant wolf spider's back - regal, but dangerous. I don't know if there's a band out there that can ride the monster groove like these cats, Cathedral maybe, but there are no caves of doom to hide in- here in this Dinosauric excursion into the outlands of heavy, drug fried bliss rock, there is only sudden movement followed by a fuzzy sort of post-apocalyptic, free floating, feedback drenched tunnel of love, filled with purple ripples of what might be peace, or might just be the calm before the storm. WE have no use for the tawdry contrivances of Earthly things, except maybe for your electricity and your naked dancing girls. In exchange, WE will gladly take you on a glistening rocket ride into inner space. I've already got my ticket. WE will see you on the other side, baby.

-Sleaze

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