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...67 / 69 is the period covered with this outing and a fine compendium of acid damaged styles poke its way through the fuzz and feedback and out into the waiting world...the first track is a statement of intent in many ways, it shows what a crazy noise these cats can kick up, retarded R&B surf drums flail around in an attempt to put a handle on the proceedings, to pull the whole thing along in a forward motion, with guitar moaning its way into being born, trying to break free from its earthly cycle...when the harmonica outbursts occur one is reminded of nothing less than those luminaries of avant madness the merry pranksters when they tried their collective hand at free form LSD rocking (cats can check this out at http://spaced3saviour.blogspot.com/2009/12/grateful-dead-acid-tests.html for a better understanding of the sounds and indeed the times as they were a changing)...a twenty minute indulgence which does not last long enough, it suspends the ticking of the clock for a universal age, time no longer imposes its heavy burden...to give a solid idea of how good this is the letters and word that come to mind form the utterance ESP-Disk, this would have made an exquisitely fine one sided waxing on said label and could have easily slipped out at the time when this was going down, it really is that good, amazing out of control sloppy spillage...with a starting gambit of this nature the rest could have been an anti climax but the reverse is thankfully true, the second and third numbers continue the drug assault, though now its coming in the form of a mix up of velvet underground filtered through a krautrock looking glass as played by an acid punk aggregation, maybe like the san francisco combo 'the oxford circle', a fine 'yardbird' style avant-psych outfit who could blitz an early ballroom crowd when they were only third on the bill to some jazz noodlers...the middle of the disc gives way to a 'mellow fellow' moment with some languid folk rock which while nice interrupts the spaceways flight of the earlier racket...it does not last but a few minutes then a floating acid groove with upfront tambourine and kazoo makes its self known, a kind of inter dimensional soundtrack pop music for young stoners everywhere...next is a beautifully lonesome ponderance with the liquid sandoz dripping off in yellow melted karmic bubbles, wonderfully evoking a 'country joe/fish' clear white light moment showing these cats were well versed in the new western style music...track seven blasts some sixties punk rock splat out of the speakers, its another version of track three, good use of conceptual continuity leading the listener into the closing minutes for a heavy dose of more acid surf punk (this would have fit right in on the third volume of pebbles, it's that messed up)...a top notch noise taht will get all psych heads frothing with uncontrolled joy as they fire up the bong and adjust the amp to number eleven and take off for the planet skronk...
...les rallizes really get down with the fried hippy scuzz attack, this is major surgery with some bent up mangled distorto weapons, these cats are riding along on a king size wave of mildew pond scum, this is slipping and sliding down electric avenue, thumbing its nose at lesser mortals who cannot rock, because this rocks like tomorrows on fire, the end of the world is sighted and only les rallizes denudes can save the planet, to stave odd natures onslaught...les rallizes are 'gods' in the fine and mighty tradition of the stooges / velvets / deviants / guru guru, in one fell swoop they save humanity from the blahs, they kick out those proverbial jams with masterly aplomb that can only be delivered by the intense singularity of street level vibes, this is driven with a fervour, not to say feverish abandon...recorded in a live environment back in 1973 this gives the listener some grooved out drug pummel to digest as in hotcha versions of the title track plus 'the last one' and 'night of assassin', both heavy voyages into the black tunnel of change, the tunnel of endless endings, the tunnel of life...falling over in a benzedrine haze whilst on the amphetamine jag, the cattle prod of severe voltage ever electrifying the 'lifeless corpse' of the early seventies rock landscape, les rallizes will hand out sustenance to all who believe in the rocking vibe, marvellous racket that will scrape the inner lobe into submission...note the typographic errors, or are they some kind of code that must lead to inner peace, the missing 's' and the non capitalisation of 'f'' in the title, there's too much going on in the denudes world that evades questionnaires from the outer, more square and unforgiving landscape of personal internal turmoil...
...'down and out in tokyo', 1980 sees les rallizes exploding the underground with more of their purpose built rock'n'roll missives, attacking in a floaty psychedelic mode on all fronts, a cushioning blanket of curly snoodles covers the listener with a deceptive calm, working in the magic with escalating denudes voodoo...more delayed echo vocals and clangs move around as les rallizes drift in the ether, hovering and gliding through the atoms and neutrons, going in an ever expanding circle, motion repeating itself in slightly different ways as a forword direction is contemplated by the pilot of this stoned trip...not necessarily as mind mangled as some of their output, the tranquill feel enables an inner peace to manifest in the recipient of this live experience, an uplifting vibe distends balloon like to carry the spirit ever onward...
...here we see les rallizes getting in a mellow fellow mood, not a laurel canyon laid back variety of laziness, not a camp fire cook out chill, much more in the loner stoner vibe, an other planet wistfullness, a creative mood of inertia (if such a thing is possible)...over the course of three sessions the stoned vibes permeate the ether, reefered grooves saturate the tape, dispensing with any and all notions of time, the universality of NOW is the only position that can be taken...
...this semi mysterious combo been getting underground attention and more for some time now and a good spinoff of such curiosity is the fact that boots been popping up all over like acid soaked mushrooms, giving all layabouts a hep dose of droned psychedelic bluesrock with enough feedback to stun a ballroom of trippers and leave them wanting more...as the title may suggest there's a mellow slowness to this biscuit, somewhat laidback and alone, distancing itself from thg outside world...thg trademark tunes and riffs are present but in less frantic form...a more reefered approach to the dynamics as opposed to the onslaught of heavily spiked electric blotter...taped december 1980 and the sound is good quality allowing the listener time to appreciate how the voyage is constructed, how the vibrations flow...
...powered by the mutant energy of a thousand suns les rallizes lay waste to the denizens of housei university back in 1983 with more of their bad acid dirges, filled with feedback and twisted shronk...damaged psychedelia washes up against hard riffs in painfully slow motion ugliness, the inner calm struggling through the noxious gas emanating from the denudes weaponary...a double disk blowout of some epic proportion, this just circles in ever increasing bubbles, floating in the heaviosity indulged by these cats...a grinding trip into the endless night with nothing in front and nothing behind, the moment is and forever will be...
...67 / 69 is the period covered with this outing and a fine compendium of acid damaged styles poke its way through the fuzz and feedback and out into the waiting world...the first track is a statement of intent in many ways, it shows what a crazy noise these cats can kick up, retarded R&B surf drums flail around in an attempt to put a handle on the proceedings, to pull the whole thing along in a forward motion, with guitar moaning its way into being born, trying to break free from its earthly cycle...when the harmonica outbursts occur one is reminded of nothing less than those luminaries of avant madness the merry pranksters when they tried their collective hand at free form LSD rocking (cats can check this out at http://spaced3saviour.blogspot.com/2009/12/grateful-dead-acid-tests.html for a better understanding of the sounds and indeed the times as they were a changing)...a twenty minute indulgence which does not last long enough, it suspends the ticking of the clock for a universal age, time no longer imposes its heavy burden...to give a solid idea of how good this is the letters and word that come to mind form the utterance ESP-Disk, this would have made an exquisitely fine one sided waxing on said label and could have easily slipped out at the time when this was going down, it really is that good, amazing out of control sloppy spillage...with a starting gambit of this nature the rest could have been an anti climax but the reverse is thankfully true, the second and third numbers continue the drug assault, though now its coming in the form of a mix up of velvet underground filtered through a krautrock looking glass as played by an acid punk aggregation, maybe like the san francisco combo 'the oxford circle', a fine 'yardbird' style avant-psych outfit who could blitz an early ballroom crowd when they were only third on the bill to some jazz noodlers...the middle of the disc gives way to a 'mellow fellow' moment with some languid folk rock which while nice interrupts the spaceways flight of the earlier racket...it does not last but a few minutes then a floating acid groove with upfront tambourine and kazoo makes its self known, a kind of inter dimensional soundtrack pop music for young stoners everywhere...next is a beautifully lonesome ponderance with the liquid sandoz dripping off in yellow melted karmic bubbles, wonderfully evoking a 'country joe/fish' clear white light moment showing these cats were well versed in the new western style music...track seven blasts some sixties punk rock splat out of the speakers, its another version of track three, good use of conceptual continuity leading the listener into the closing minutes for a heavy dose of more acid surf punk (this would have fit right in on the third volume of pebbles, it's that messed up)...a top notch noise taht will get all psych heads frothing with uncontrolled joy as they fire up the bong and adjust the amp to number eleven and take off for the planet skronk...
...les rallizes really get down with the fried hippy scuzz attack, this is major surgery with some bent up mangled distorto weapons, these cats are riding along on a king size wave of mildew pond scum, this is slipping and sliding down electric avenue, thumbing its nose at lesser mortals who cannot rock, because this rocks like tomorrows on fire, the end of the world is sighted and only les rallizes denudes can save the planet, to stave odd natures onslaught...les rallizes are 'gods' in the fine and mighty tradition of the stooges / velvets / deviants / guru guru, in one fell swoop they save humanity from the blahs, they kick out those proverbial jams with masterly aplomb that can only be delivered by the intense singularity of street level vibes, this is driven with a fervour, not to say feverish abandon...recorded in a live environment back in 1973 this gives the listener some grooved out drug pummel to digest as in hotcha versions of the title track plus 'the last one' and 'night of assassin', both heavy voyages into the black tunnel of change, the tunnel of endless endings, the tunnel of life...falling over in a benzedrine haze whilst on the amphetamine jag, the cattle prod of severe voltage ever electrifying the 'lifeless corpse' of the early seventies rock landscape, les rallizes will hand out sustenance to all who believe in the rocking vibe, marvellous racket that will scrape the inner lobe into submission...note the typographic errors, or are they some kind of code that must lead to inner peace, the missing 's' and the non capitalisation of 'f'' in the title, there's too much going on in the denudes world that evades questionnaires from the outer, more square and unforgiving landscape of personal internal turmoil...
...'down and out in tokyo', 1980 sees les rallizes exploding the underground with more of their purpose built rock'n'roll missives, attacking in a floaty psychedelic mode on all fronts, a cushioning blanket of curly snoodles covers the listener with a deceptive calm, working in the magic with escalating denudes voodoo...more delayed echo vocals and clangs move around as les rallizes drift in the ether, hovering and gliding through the atoms and neutrons, going in an ever expanding circle, motion repeating itself in slightly different ways as a forword direction is contemplated by the pilot of this stoned trip...not necessarily as mind mangled as some of their output, the tranquill feel enables an inner peace to manifest in the recipient of this live experience, an uplifting vibe distends balloon like to carry the spirit ever onward...
...here we see les rallizes getting in a mellow fellow mood, not a laurel canyon laid back variety of laziness, not a camp fire cook out chill, much more in the loner stoner vibe, an other planet wistfullness, a creative mood of inertia (if such a thing is possible)...over the course of three sessions the stoned vibes permeate the ether, reefered grooves saturate the tape, dispensing with any and all notions of time, the universality of NOW is the only position that can be taken...
...this semi mysterious combo been getting underground attention and more for some time now and a good spinoff of such curiosity is the fact that boots been popping up all over like acid soaked mushrooms, giving all layabouts a hep dose of droned psychedelic bluesrock with enough feedback to stun a ballroom of trippers and leave them wanting more...as the title may suggest there's a mellow slowness to this biscuit, somewhat laidback and alone, distancing itself from thg outside world...thg trademark tunes and riffs are present but in less frantic form...a more reefered approach to the dynamics as opposed to the onslaught of heavily spiked electric blotter...taped december 1980 and the sound is good quality allowing the listener time to appreciate how the voyage is constructed, how the vibrations flow...
...powered by the mutant energy of a thousand suns les rallizes lay waste to the denizens of housei university back in 1983 with more of their bad acid dirges, filled with feedback and twisted shronk...damaged psychedelia washes up against hard riffs in painfully slow motion ugliness, the inner calm struggling through the noxious gas emanating from the denudes weaponary...a double disk blowout of some epic proportion, this just circles in ever increasing bubbles, floating in the heaviosity indulged by these cats...a grinding trip into the endless night with nothing in front and nothing behind, the moment is and forever will be...
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