King Gizzard's endless parade of opus-scale offerings rolls on unabated. Fresh off the infinite Nonagon and their Microtonal earwarper, Murder of the Universe is three mini-concept albums strung together, each feeling full-length, the whole experience stretching way beyond its exhausting 46 minutes. The band's usual rolling, relentless backbone's there, packed with screeching expulsions, swirling nauseatingly through high-concept structures, climaxing in a disgusting, mind-melting universe-murdering wave of cyborgs, clones and vomit. That's not colorful description - that's more or less the literal plot.
It's a heady, heavy, metal masterpiece, a bad trip of epic proportions, the kind of thing you strap in for, classic hardcore Floyd hole shit.
The narration, first by Leah Senior, then by a British text-to-speech program, is the worst aspect of the album, but it wouldn't work with out it. All that talking's right up on top of the mix, a bold move that differentiates the otherwise-familiar riffs from the band's dozen previous dalliances, forwarding narrative beyond what you could accomplish with singing. But it's _ever_ _present_, somethings leaving the music as something of an afterthought, as background music to a books-on-tape reading of some Dickian nightmare, and it's as great and awful as it sounds 4/5
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment