Comets On Fire
Comets On Fire

I haven't been this excited about a band since the DMZ stunned me at first listen. It's almost frightening to realize such an "event," yet it's exactly what's happening now. But compared to the twenty-odd years of rock history that separated me from Mono Mann and company, these Comets On Fire allow me a gap of only 6 years for a pleasantly delayed discovery. So it happens that I put on a record I know little to nothing about and in moments I'm blown away: I've retraced the entire discography of Comets On Fire (bought in bulk and blind!) and ended up finding a gem of pure, overloaded, vibrant and original rock 'n' roll enough to instantly place among my all-time favorite records.

Initially released in very few copies and solely on vinyl (I already love these guys!), and later re-released by Alternative Tentacles after mild success, the self-titled debut of Comets is true to its name: a meteor of fire and flames, a genuine bomb of light dropped on earth. I can't find flaws, dull moments or filler tracks; this record is a perfect device. It chews up and spits everything, bursts with joy when it manages to detonate the wild abandon to the groove of the Stooges against the drenched fury of the MC5. It experiments with a feverish deconstruction of rock forms tearing them apart with lethargic punk slashes between Damned and Dead Boys and then obsessively reiterating them as the Suicide would do in a fierce copulation with Chrome. Overwhelmed by enthusiasm, I don't even notice the disturbing "echoplex" effect that comes to ear only when I change sides and put the needle back. Not content, these ecstatic celebrants overseas toxic freaks have even invented an analog device (the echoplex precisely) that combines reverb, echo, and delay effects and filters all the group's sounds live (including the voice and... the drums?!!): it results in a dark and raving sonic miasma cloak that amplifies a trance-psychedelic effect, consistently detuning all tracks. As if the Cramps were screwing Sun Ra or the Hawkwind were fighting the 13th Floor Elevators inside a spaceship.

An amatory frenzy that sucks away the garage, collapses against the wave, and drowns in noise before flushing and being sucked into its vortex. Here is everything I personally ask of music: ten furious sketches of wild and chaotic rock 'n' roll like hasn't been heard since the days of "Funhouse". Miracle or horrendous blasphemy? Perhaps both, so I fish out the Blue Cheer, try to play "Alien Soundtracks", then pull the Complete Funhouse Sessions off the shelf and as punishment, I listen to all seven CDs without breaks. When I get to the MC5 I can't even remember the chorus of "Kick Out The Jams" and I mentally repeat to myself that 'it's not possible!'. Fuck it, now I crave listening to Comets On Fire!!!