Hills
Master Sleeps

Swedes on acid.

It must be the notorious Welfare State, the worker-friendly office hours (common to all of Northern Europe, to be honest), months-long paternity leave, the long winter night, or something else, but in Sweden, as in all of Scandinavia, everyone has a band, and in their respective musical field, they kick ass.

I'm not talking about free time that fortysomethings with a belly spend in rehearsal rooms rather than playing like the Borg of the 00s. No damn, I'm talking about young and less young people who play as if it were the only reason to live, drawing inspiration from Anglo-American music (but not only), and they offer a personal version (shall we talk about the punk r'n'r scene of the '90s? Refused or Hellacopters anyone?).

These little-known Hills are no exception, confidently inserted into the typically German psychedelic trance tradition, seasoning it with West Coast influences, but all done in a manner that is, if not original, definitely personal. 6 tracks, averaging around 6 minutes (if they were 6 members, they would be the perfect Satanist group!), opened by a monumental excursion like “Rise Again”, with a hammering and cyclical rhythm, where the guitar draws spacey doodles into infinity. Space that turns inward in more meditative moments like “Claras Vaggvisa”, with a hint of the Floyd's Set The Controls, or in the concluding and chanting “Death Shall Come”, the only properly sung track on the album. An honorable mention for the title track, with its insistent organ phrasing supported by a fabulous space blues guitar, and “Bring Me Sand” an incredible intersection between the guitar liquidity of the Grateful Dead and hypnotic rhythm between Neu and Amon Duul.

The perfect soundtrack for the next infernal trip to Ikea, preferably on a Sunday afternoon.