Bongripper
Hippie Killer

He who goes slowly goes safely and goes far, I used to reiterate.

He who goes slowly goes unwell and goes far, I say now.

The title suggests to me that the current striped ethnic-harem-like pajamas I'm wearing are not at all suitable to cross the foul flames of this musical hell, they would rather end up feeding the bong of Cthulhu or something similar; now, I do not believe that the habitués of certain crossings on burning quicksand have missed the discus thrower in question, and I am sure that, if so, they would agree to define it as one of the toughest layers of doom-basalt of the last ten years and beyond.

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The Bongripper are musicians from Illinois, and we are talking about people who started about ten years ago providing exquisite reminiscences of certain stoned pilgrimages. To give a better idea, it, the first album, is an eighty-minute track; a year later, the hippie smasher in question comes out, a sort of natural discographic hangover: a massive and lengthy composition fragmented between heavy and gargantuan instrumentals and desolate ambient interludes, and sometimes, even when you find yourself with mud up to your neck, some glimpse of melody is allowed.

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Decidedly impactful in its bipolarity of compositions now dense like black holes, now evanescent like the scent of a swamp, the listening follows the track and path of aimless and plotless compositions, all forming a huge atmospheric album that is not trivial at all, bearing the weight of doom that has preceded it over the years. And doom is heavy, as we know.