Monday, November 12, 2007  4:14 pm 

…and what they saw

Wind opens up like the wings of a bat engulfing them inside a space which is utter quiet for a second, the eye of the storm, the belly of a behemoth with walls through which acid should presently precipitate hissing to corrode flesh and soul into a primeval soup of bubbling fat, a yellow carcass will be later ejected outside with a burp of indifference.

It different this time, the red eye of the desert must have seen something setting them apart from so many other victims, maybe a lack of fear, an embrace of what’s to come, and souls sharp like machetes, the eye gazes upon them with satanic intensity, a twinkle of curiousity in its blood-shot pupil rains attention upon their small fragile bodies, a decision is made, pillars of sand shoot up in the crimsom sky and precipitate upon them as the metamorphosis takes place and aeons of knowledge spill from an alien place filling their ribcages in a pulse synchronised with their heart beat, speeding faster and faster into a humming drone reaching a climax and then silence.

The creatures of the desert stare shivering as the dust settles down, the air smells of fire, something bad is coming this way.

No Age take you under a tunnel of psychedelic bliss which soothes with the contained power of late-era Boredoms before stepping on the accelerator activating kerosene powered blades of distortion, breezy east coast melody lift you in the air to fly with the eagles in a brief moment of shimmering beauty.

No Age- Dead Plane

From the Dead Plane EP.

Ghost’s Hypnotic Underworld is in my humble not-quite-head-heritage-freak opinion the best psyche album released so far this millenium, up there with Comets on Fire’s Blue Cathedral, and the second part of Each One Teach One by Oneida, yes, the one that drove your soul into the pre-cambric Oceans of eternal bashing with Sheets of Easter, up in Anctartidan heights they clash projecting colossal shadows, we hear echoes of the cyclopean struggle, and from time to time meteorites of pure energy strike our village driving the children insane, meteorites like Kiseichukan, a fiery ball of progressive magma which could have soundtracked Conan the Barbarian’s adventures going all ronin across the hyperborean wastelands.

Ghost- Kiseichukan

We are collateral victims of the struggle between Gods, ok then, we can live with that.

The Flower Travellin’ Band, or Japan’s answer to Black Sabbath landed on 20JFG’s prog loving loins via Lord Nuneaton Savage’s pack of tarot cards, and hencerforth our lives changed for the heaviest, placed in a position of frightened awe as puny witnesses of a clash of Cthonic Dimensions, our conciousness bombarded with hallucinated images straight off When the Riff Colossi ruled the Earth as summoned by Akira Yamanaka’s shamanic ululating.

Flower Travellin’ Band- Satori Pt. 1

Warning- We’re preparing something big. There is a pattern underlying all this seeming chaos, reports from encounters with demonic intelligences in the depths of the deserts, it’s not a coincidence, we have a plan, keep looking at the sky. We’re coming, from the dark stellar voids beyond, and with the storm which rages in the barren tundras, we are the steps following you not into, but FROM WITHIN the dark Cul de Sac. Don’t be scared, we love you, in a special way. It’s happening.

ALSO

This Saturday: Brighton, Penthouse 8-1 Free entry, Expensive music.

It’s us!

labels >> ghosts, no age, prog, roadtrip