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A few years have passed, I remember them like a dream made of purple lights, vibrations, and crowded bodies, a newly begun supercoven and the two of us struggling under one of the various tents at the good hellfest; maybe we had drunk a bit too much, but the delay to the oborn & friends show and the excruciating ecstasy traditionally made us get lost in the crowd; not even time to accompany with a j that in the already bad dopethrone situation sucks into a black hole, an agony in which the intense fifteen hours of extreme heat, things, and concerts start to be felt; the sun hit as hard as the night was blurred, taken like a bowling ball for the pneumatic cavities I crawl away from the valley to the notes of black mass, all that remains is an oneiric memory.
2017, a few years have passed and I'm still waiting to attend one of their concerts presentably; in the meantime, they don't make themselves much present on any (reachable by me) stage and this album is released; immediately the hourglass woman on the cover inspired various sensations and if the music had really been all hips and sex I would have melted even more; apart from the absence of sound abominations, compared to all the load behind it, what it leaves in my hand is a jovial carefree summer listening;
I deliberately waited months to listen to the whole album, I do not hide the grotesque that always rises from my hocks upon hearing and especially seeing this see you in hell (well, he almost seems endearing), as succulent as it is, it remains the track I skip and it's a real shame because it's the first of the album; then there’s necromania, beautiful, well done, good, but if uncle acid were like nephews of the wizard here I have imagined the exact opposite;
it was with hear the sirens screams that I felt like a fool for not having understood it, they wanted to make their seventies album, both flesh and bone, with never-so-clean twilight sounds; mourning of the magicians makes itself awaited throughout the listening, but I already knew this one, I had breakfast with it for months and it was my personal and imaginary ep of the wizardd, because even though I generally liked the album, only in this big piece I feel a bit of their execrable moods enclosed.
as much as the aesthetic remains the same, in the sounds they hit hard with swiffer on their 00s albums and sandpaper on the 90s ones; if I have to think about the classic extremely heavy steps to do in dreams, here the step missing in reality I perceive going downhill, for my taste I feel too much the absence of their mantras that foam everywhere, riffs that drool down the arms with the total pachydermia of the legs, but you can never take away a praise to a band that practically changes with every release and always leaves you some pearl to smoke; in the end, you know, it's a matter of taste, jon used to sing to himself coming out crumpled from the graves while now he seems more like an undertaker with elephant leg pants, dressed in black, no turning back, doom-mantia.
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