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A total of 25 minutes divided into seven razor-sharp shards of adrenaline and pure neurosis, a surgical autopsy of the deconstructed blues to the limit, yes, I know, it's predictable, but that trout face of Beefheart and his Magic Band set the standard, and still rock, Rrrock, the most sinister and understated there is, noise, a lot, a lot of noise, phrases on jagged butter crutches like the coasts of Norway, but Chance & company they do... A little bit indeed; lysergic and whiskey-infused solos that aren't solos, almost mathematical flashes like Shellac's, promptly covered by tons of mud layers as soon as there are the first signs of cold, and while we're at it, let's throw in our One Dimensional Man and the Blues Explosion, say what you will, but our little piggies know them well in the end. Discover the review
A total of 25 minutes divided into seven razor-sharp shards of adrenaline and pure neurosis, a surgical autopsy of the deconstructed blues to the limit, yes, I know, it's predictable, but that trout face of Beefheart and his Magic Band set the standard, and still rock, Rrrock, the most sinister and understated there is, noise, a lot, a lot of noise, phrases on jagged butter crutches like the coasts of Norway, but Chance & company they do... A little bit indeed; lysergic and whiskey-infused solos that aren't solos, almost mathematical flashes like Shellac's, promptly covered by tons of mud layers as soon as there are the first signs of cold, and while we're at it, let's throw in our One Dimensional Man and the Blues Explosion, say what you will, but our little piggies know them well in the end.
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