Meat Puppets
Monsters

Here they are, circling in my head again, resonating in the car, amidst rooms, faces, and random situations. Perhaps it's the fault of spring creating interdependencies between well-being and illness for me, but the Meat Puppets sometimes know how to make me not think within the constant limbo of simple amusement they create.

Flowers bloom and it seems like the whole horizon is there to run.

And so, Monsters is among my favorites. I remember the first encounter with an opening track that was dazzling for me: raw sound and a flattened melody chorus by the ride on frenetic distorted guitars. Perhaps a misleading description for listening to the record, but what is indicative in a Meat Puppets album? Certainly, it's their approach, at that crossroads between disarticulation and formal perfection.

1989, decidedly cleaned up from even vaguely cacophonous elements, having lost the punk visceral nature of certain deliriums along the way, similarly to its predecessor, here they seem to experiment with melody on their typical country, blues textures with psychedelic touches (after having proposed a revolutionary way to play the guitar, among other things, well, Curt I won't even introduce you, Kurt already did, let's put it that way, and it feels odd to say it). A musical spectrum where everything fits perfectly, in serene and carefree madness: in short, amid melodic peaks and toothless rhythms, a smile always escapes somewhere.

Attacked by monsters: the opener mentioned.
Like Being Alive: the vaporous ballad, it could be painted rather than played.
Light: a piece that outfits my response as to how freak music consolidated over time.

Nothing to say, even writing about it puts me in a good mood, happily I leave the little page of an album that describes one of their metamorphoses that fascinates me the most.

LP