Motorpsycho
Child Of The Future

The first time I heard about Motorpsycho was about ten years ago. At that time, the cult of the turntable was still very much alive in my family, and I had probably just stopped playing Kinder egg surprises on the platter. My father used to come home and slip some old LP into that contraption, proud of his Stanton needle "I've-paid-an-arm-and-a-leg-and-if-you-break-it-I'll-kick-your-ass". Changing sides then took on the mystical hues of a ritual, such was the care he put into it. Vinyl was the relic.

One day he came home with "Trust Us" under his arm. Personally, I learned to appreciate it five or six years later, because it was all too strange for a little kid who still played with Lego. "They’re the best around," he said. Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh.

NOW

Dust. Even my father has yielded to the empire of the compact disc. However, he thinks downloading mp3s might steal his soul, and even now every time he needs to send an email, he calls me because he hasn't quite figured it out. The turntable has fallen almost into disuse, except for my sporadic weekend incursions when I return home. I too am enchanted by the new possibilities of use-and-throw consumption at lightning speed and fluctuating quality.

This is why Motorpsycho are jerks. They must have said: "damn, in our adolescence we lived off LPs. We want you to feel what it was like to listen to a Record, with the spirit we felt." And so, they celebrate their twentieth anniversary with an album released only in vinyl format (white!) with the usual beautiful artwork of Kim Hiorthøy.

Stubborn, for sure, as they are certainly aware that in less than an hour one can convert a vinyl to digital format without too much ceremony. And they could also be charged with self-harm since such an operation distances a large slice of casual listeners and even a small part of fans lacking the appropriate equipment.

Needless to say, it was a blind purchase, simply because of blind trust in the return of their proverbial wicked swag, mostly confirmed by the previous "Little Lucid Moments" and the steady inclusion of an exceptional drummer like Kenneth Kapstad, with the incentive of having Steve Albini behind the mixer. And there I am again, in front of "my" old turntable, happy like the little boy I was (am?).

I smile.

I hoped for a record like this, and here it is. Albini unravels the very essence of Motor’s sound, here endowed with a power that hasn't come out since "Let Them Eat Cake." A very intense forty minutes, where bass - distorted, metallic - and drums - simply unstoppable - carry the pieces forward, in a state of perfect harmony, while Snah's guitar work oozes inspiration and always remains enjoyable, never at odds with the work of his bandmates. It transitions from the more pop moments of the opener "The Ozzylot (hidden in a girl)" and the title track, to the vaguely stoner riffs that are nothing short of kick-ass in "Riding the Tiger" and "Whole Lotta Diana," certainly the songs that will bring the greatest live joys, with their steamroller progression and continuous tempo changes that would make three-quarters of today's so-called rock bands blush. "Cornucopia (or Satan...uh...something)" recalls the best and darkest atmospheres of "Black Hole/Blank Canvas" and "Mr. Victim," in the position usually reserved for the weakest track of an LP (side B, track 2), it brilliantly passes the test in four minutes of great class. There's even room for an acoustic piece, the only breath of fresh air, "The Waiting Game," which can be placed in the classic vein of Bent's home recordings. Another thing that stands out is the particular care reserved for the vocal parts, harmonized in a way that betrays their passion for progressive, something that at times might make some people raise an eyebrow (in the title track one might find unsettling glimpses of Yes, but they can be forgiven for that...).

The fact remains that these three gentlemen have now returned to being the best power trio around. And my turntable is a bit less dusty than before.

Thank you, Motorpsycho.