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Acid Mothers Temple, "Electric Heavyland"
Alien8
Acid Mothers Temple's "Electric Heavyland" is the kind of record that makes me want to adopt all kinds of unnecessary, Lester Bangs-style rock critic hyperbole. I want to compare Kawabata Mokoto to a shaman, summoning up spirits with his giant stone slabs of high magickal noise and grandiose riffs. I want to compare this album to some obscure circa-70's krautrock chestnut. I want to write in ALL CAPS AND END EVERY SENTENCE WITH THREE EXCLAMATION POINTS!!! Although I kind of detest this style of critique, I'm not sure how else to approach this excellent new disc by Acid Mothers Temple and the Melting Paraiso UFO. So, here goes:
Wham, bam, THANK YOU SATAN! Five minutes into the first ear-bleeding track we know just where we are. We have come to Metal Valhalla. A million retarded Vikings are pulling their lungs out through their mouths. A thousand nubile virgins dance too close to the bonfire, flames licking at their slick, lubricated flesh. This is a heady brew, a randy guitar and synthesizer fest that merges Blue Cheer with The Stooges and Amon Duul, and then feverishly jacks off and falls down in paroxysms of insane laughter. This is probably not what the druids played at Stonehenge, but they REALLY SHOULD HAVE!
Well, enough of that. This album won't save the world, but the three tracks contained herein certainly represent the best single document of the Acid Mothers Temple's more bombastic side. Kawabata has never sounded better, easily making the transition from solo guitar drones to wicked stoner metal riffs, to Slayer-inspired bouts of bludgeoning melodies. Never has it been more clear that this man is a master of his chosen instrument. Cotton Casino's falsetto shrieks and swirling, kaleidoscopic synthesizer squeals perfectly frame the noise. Propulsive, rumbling drums push the action forward into the abyss, keeping the listener on the edge of his seat. The riffs are so violent and direct as to be almost idiotic, but Kawabata still manages to convince you of the intelligence of his prowess. This is idiot savant metal, dude, and it never ceases to amaze and transcend.
Acid Mothers Temple's "Electric Heavyland" is the kind of record that makes me want to adopt all kinds of unnecessary, Lester Bangs-style rock critic hyperbole. I want to compare Kawabata Mokoto to a shaman, summoning up spirits with his giant stone slabs of high magickal noise and grandiose riffs. I want to compare this album to some obscure circa-70's krautrock chestnut. I want to write in ALL CAPS AND END EVERY SENTENCE WITH THREE EXCLAMATION POINTS!!! Although I kind of detest this style of critique, I'm not sure how else to approach this excellent new disc by Acid Mothers Temple and the Melting Paraiso UFO. So, here goes:Wham, bam, THANK YOU SATAN! Five minutes into the first ear-bleeding track we know just where we are. We have come to Metal Valhalla. A million retarded Vikings are pulling their lungs out through their mouths. A thousand nubile virgins dance too close to the bonfire, flames licking at their slick, lubricated flesh. This is a heady brew, a randy guitar and synthesizer fest that merges Blue Cheer with The Stooges and Amon Duul, and then feverishly jacks off and falls down in paroxysms of insane laughter. This is probably not what the druids played at Stonehenge, but they REALLY SHOULD HAVE!
Well, enough of that. This album won't save the world, but the three tracks contained herein certainly represent the best single document of the Acid Mothers Temple's more bombastic side. Kawabata has never sounded better, easily making the transition from solo guitar drones to wicked stoner metal riffs, to Slayer-inspired bouts of bludgeoning melodies. Never has it been more clear that this man is a master of his chosen instrument. Cotton Casino's falsetto shrieks and swirling, kaleidoscopic synthesizer squeals perfectly frame the noise. Propulsive, rumbling drums push the action forward into the abyss, keeping the listener on the edge of his seat. The riffs are so violent and direct as to be almost idiotic, but Kawabata still manages to convince you of the intelligence of his prowess. This is idiot savant metal, dude, and it never ceases to amaze and transcend.
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