Comets On Fire
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For a few years now, I've been stubbornly buying music magazines almost regularly, even now that, with the rise of webzines, their informational function has been dramatically diminishing. I would call myself a sentimentalist; for me, the printed magazine will never be replaced by the fleeting nature of the "mare magnum" of the internet. It was while reading a well-known Italian magazine (which, out of respect for privacy, I will call Odore) that I came across one of those reviews that really tick me off.

When talking about this new album by Comets On Fire, a band from Santa Cruz, the well-intentioned reviewer in question started off by saying he "loved the gift of brevity" and that "a song should convey a concept, whatever it is, in no more than three minutes." Now, if we're talking about a punk or hardcore group or various Beatles imitators, we're perfectly in sync; but Comets On Fire are a hard psychedelic band devoted to wild improvisation and sonic chaos, so seeking the gift of brevity in them is like going to the butcher, giving a lecture on the coercive purpose of Power, and expecting him to respond by quoting Foucault. Obviously, this can always happen since clothes do not make the man, but it seems like a somewhat sterile operation.
I also understand that musical tastes are inherently personal (of course) and that editorial policies do not allow the reviewer to choose the records they write about, but discussing it without knowing what you're talking about and in a biased manner is intellectually wrong.

Certainly, Comets On Fire won't change the history of music, but in their own small way, they are a formidable group. Even though this "Avatar" is, in my opinion, a touch inferior to the previous "Blue Cathedral", still their best work to date, there is still plenty for fans of hard psychedelic sounds to rejoice about. If a critique can be made of the ensemble, it's that they have, in some instances, softened the sharp edges that characterized previous works just a bit too much, especially in "Lucifer's Memory", a somewhat mawkish ballad comparable (to be kind) to "Miss X" by MC5 or (to be harsh) to a failed crooner playing in a suburban piano bar. The rest stands on excellent levels; the way Comets manipulate a derailing and chaotic sound matter without ever getting lost in it is enviable. Illustrative of this are "Dogwood Rust", which starts jazz and ends almost noise, and the alternations of calm and acceleration in "Jaybird".

Now I'll say goodbye because I'm off to discuss Tungus shamanism with the milkman.