Bigelf
Hex

In the midst of my alcoholic journey, I'm overwhelmed by a grin that seems to come from the deepest depths of hell, accompanied by a swirl of low frequencies and valve distortions that make the hairs on my pubes stand on end. In the distance, I spot four shady figures and immediately recognize Ozzy, intent on biting his damn bat, and with him, there’s that shirt with Tony’s mustache, wrapped in the inseparable demonic aura, fiercely abusing his slave guitar. And then... and then there's not even time to raise my gaze before the image of Lucy in the sky with her diamonds appears, and as if by magic, I find myself surrounded by a field of strawberries. Mmm, delicious though!

Now you might think I’m delirious, and you're probably not far off, but these aren't my memories from Arkham. This is the Bigelf. The creation of that Mad Hatter Damon Fox, to whose unbirthday I would certainly decline the offer of his tea. I think I'm already quite out there even without the help of certain substances. And screw the March Hare! What was I saying? Ah, yes. Bigelf is a band from Los Angeles who, instead of chasing tits and asses all over California, have wisely turned to hard music for a handful of damn dollars. And while we're at it, let's all dress in black, which is always in fashion, and in case of a funeral, you already have a nice suit ready. If it’s not clear, madness is the backbone around which the musical universe of the band revolves, as well as the leitmotif of "Hex".

Yes, because in this album dusty and razor-sharp riffs worthy of the best Sabbath go hand in hand with saccharine melodies that wink at the Fab Four. They may not have smoked joints in the toilets of Buckingham Palace, but Damon Fox and company certainly know how to create magnetic and impactful harmonies. If we then add a touch of sulfurous psychedelia and a sprinkle of mossy synth sounds, here you have the perfect surreal cocktail served. "Hex" is one of those works that can bring everyone together or, conversely, confuse or ensnare the less open-minded listeners. On the one hand, lovers of progressive or seventies nostalgics will find themselves facing a technically flawless band that enjoys manipulating various instruments and vintage sounds. On the other, even the devoted electricity enthusiasts might succumb to crowds of angry and overloaded guitars.

Harmonies that screw with cacophonies in a sapphic and multiethnic orgy. Tourniquets that alternate acid-laden atmospheres with violent adrenaline tensions. And to those who claim that today's bands continue to wear the same old clothes, I only say this: there are people who can wear whatever they want and manage to do so with style and imagination. And I believe Bigelf is among them.