I'm torn: I love me some heady prog, and I love me some fuckit garagerock nonsense - but trying to combine them risks being the worst of both worlds.
The opening salvo rages and it's a headbobber. And Pussy Foot the Duke is a mysterious, swirling bit of Gratefuldeadism, and momentum starts to build... but just when you start to get into the knotted energy, overflowing into endearing looseness - you picture these dudes, eyes on instruments, trying very hard to play very well, yelling very loud, trying to be just the best the best the best band, and - - crack - - there's no transcendent spell, no reptile impulse. It all reads like blueprint.
On paper this is the roadmap to my wretched heart - in the performance it just comes across as overwrought and muso, a framed painting of fire 3/5
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment