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Rating: Mystical and religious title, song lyrics in the same vein, striking cover art, the usual crossover of powerful rhythms and melodic and harmonic richness characterize the third market release, dated 1990, of this formidable American bass/guitar/drums trio. Of the dozen studio albums released, this is the most melodic, the least acidic, the most Beatlesque, the least metallic, the best-selling and easiest to find. And above all, it's beautiful, one of the best.
It immediately explodes with "We Are Finding Who We Are," a gospel shout from the extraordinary vocalist Doug Pinnick, who distorts his bass here, creating a terrifying background and body to the guitar evolutions of Ty Tabor, particularly full of slurred grunge tones (mind you, of his invention, in 1988 for the first album, well ahead of Soundgarden and company). The following "It's Love" sticks immediately to the master, but it is well diversified because this time Ty sings with his Lennon-esque timbre, and then it's much more soaked with super choirs, suggestive but also somewhat superficial, dispersing the initial, fantastic groove created by the guitarist's staccatos, masterfully timed with drummer Jerry Gaskill's bass drum.
In "I'll Never Get Tired Of You," the intense, soulful throat of the bass player comes to the fore again; the track is a kind of mantra once again filled with choirs, finely accented by Gaskill's creative and ingenious way of placing bass drum and snare along the measures. More resonant and melodic is the next "Fine Art Of Friendship," thanks primarily to the use of the 12-string bass that allows the guitar to add punch with full hands without worrying too much about harmony. The final "rhythmic" solo is also beautiful.
"Mr. Wilson" is a melodic pearl of great resonance thanks to Ty's deadly, deeply arpeggio, assisted by a celestial sound. It's the guitarist himself who takes the solo vocal, then focuses on a super riff that seems endless but instead evolves into a call-and-response solo between two different guitars, finally closing with choruses recorded at altered speed. It's one of the best of the lot, truly psychedelic stuff, a plausible Beatles rereading done twenty years later, with the added value of mind-blowing sounds and rare instrumental skill.
"Moanjam" shoots off at 200 bpm and never stops: it's a deadly jam session of great energy. On the tireless eight-string bass groove, Tabor takes off on a tangent with an endless solo full of notes; a muscular performance that makes the following narcotic ballad "Six Broken Soldiers" interpreted occasionally by Gaskill's sweet falsetto voice entirely appropriate, with reversed echoes on the guitar in the prelude, and generally a Sergeant Pepper-like Beatles scent in every corner.
"I Can't Help It" takes care to restore hard rock with high-level rhythmic interlocking in which our trio frolic like ducks in the proverbial pond, with cohesion and precision like true soulmates. Especially in the riff, both guitar and bass and drums, all with wonderful sounds and perfect timing, provide one of the best testaments of how peculiar, distinctive, and original this trio is, capable of being simultaneously loud and warm, extravagant and melodic, heavy and funky. There's even an electric sitar solo, and the main vocals go once more to the guitarist.
On "Talk To You," our guys organize a falsely cumbersome start, then begins a devastating guitar tapping accompanied by the rhythm section, resulting in a high-grade progressive number. And again, listening to how guitar and bass drum are synchronized, yet maintaining all the groove and naturalness in the world, is a physical pleasure... when Jerry plays the ride bell, with moving natural rhythmics, the final orgasm occurs, how good they are!
On "Everywhere I Go," there's a new gospel chant by Doug over a heavenly arpeggio, then an elongated and mystical chorus is organized... but the song ends soon because it's time for "We Were Born To Be Loved," an absolute concentrate of staccato wisdom, a vocabulary of timing among musicians, the maximum humanly possible. The track starts with idiosyncratic seventh harmonies, beautifully extended while the rhythm section already begins to play quite syncopated. Then follows a half rap on the first cyclopean syncopations, a final verse in three voices, and then the instrumental part explodes, a matter of stop&go, alternations of different riffs, theme variations, blows to right and left in unison so it's not even possible to talk about rapport among the three: this is pure and simple brotherhood (of course there are no tricks or deceptions; they perform it live every night, exactly the same, without click, and it's perfect!).
The album closes with the last two numbers, the first being the title track and sung in turn by all three, with the chorus belonging to the bassist, powerfully soulful as his skin and race allow. Halfway through the piece comes a... bolero with a chorus, which dissolves for a final verse but then reorganizes and determines a devastating and endless final, at an unsustainable mystical/psychedelic grade, calming only when we are almost at the tenth minute. Nothing better could be done even for the closing piece: it's called "Legal Kill" and it's simply wonderful: pure Ty Tabor almost alone, with acoustic guitar and layering his soft voice in rich choirs. The best acoustic guitar sound I know, recorded on two tracks, one on the right and one on the left, so synchronized that it makes you cry listening to them, so lush and resonant that even the picks contribute to the sound in an exciting way, supports a suggestive melody enhanced by flute and cello interventions (by two guest musicians) and beautifully closes this great album by this great band known by not many people.
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