The Heads (GBR)
Everybody Knows We Got Nowhere

To reverse course, it's not always necessary to do the exact opposite of what one has always done; you can achieve the same result by doing the same things but changing their form, making it clear to those who are skeptical that, although they are right to be cautious, they might not have seen all sides of a certain issue, person, topic, or musical genre.

In this particular case: musical genre.

Stoner Rock or Acid Rock or modern Psych Rock, often labeled as simple and banal '70s Revival. I mean people like Monster Magnet - Kyuss - 35007 - The Heads; in this particular case: The Heads.

They're born in Europe: the homeland of electronic psychedelia. They grow up influenced by Kraut and English Psych but at the same time cultivate a strong passion for the heavier, American style. They debut in the years when the revival of certain sounds so dear to Hawkwind, Quicksilver, Hendrix, and connected folks was emerging on the world music scene with the aforementioned bands, but they aren't very lucky, or perhaps they didn't believe enough and remain in the shadows.
Their initial mistake was doing too much revival without considering that modern times always need something new, even if just a little. The "already heard" is a tough hurdle to overcome in a period where everything or almost everything has been explored. Their releases are divided into tons of singles and EPs, which are systematically collected together to create albums, making it hard to trace their official discography. A big revival certainly, nothing to say about that, but unfortunately, a "been there, heard that" spontaneously arises, and those who were already skeptical confirm they are right.

But luckily for us, and by us, I mean those of us who don't stop at first appearances, they decided to get serious. This is nothing more than yet another album of theirs created by gathering pieces from various EPs, some even from four years earlier, but this time they don't make a simple Best Of: they intend to reverse course.
And they don't do the opposite out of everything, of 16 tracks, ten were previously published but modified by adding sonic matter aplenty, putting in the effort, showing that they have much more in mind than a simple revival. They aim to show how psychedelia is a genre without end, the more you add, the better it is, sounds are never enough... go all out, brother.

2001: "Everybody Knows We Got Nowhere", the album that most matches my taste among the millions out there: my idea of Psychedelia, and since it is my favorite genre, this is my favorite album.

Interstellar storms, overdubs at the limit of multitracking, exaggeration, totality, distorted hypertrophy, sandpaper for the cerebral cortex, bandsaws for neurons, pantographing of nerve centers, grinders for gray matter: ambient samples from the sound of the sea to that of the wind inserted under (or above, impossible to position) incredibly distorted and acid guitars, one on top of the other until reaching a sonic mix that, to be decoded in every detail, needs to be listened to hundreds and hundreds of times, if not thousands.

Like the best things, to understand it well, you have to dive deep, you can't stop at a first impression or a cursory examination; good things must be studied in every detail to claim to have understood them in their entirety. You might like a side of something, and another might make you sick, but if you can't derive the exact sum of each side, then you're lost at sea.

Not a chorus, not a riff left alone for more than 20 seconds, nothing easy in this composition: everything is damn complicated and exaggerated to the limit, more than this you can do little; and if you do more, you fall into absolute noise. The cream, or the core, or the creamy core of the matter is that they stop there: precisely at the line of demarcation, teetering on the precipice and laughing with pleasure, a balance worthy of a trapeze artist. Impossible to outline a rhythm, you either follow the drums or the distortion of the first guitar, or the second, or the third, or the bass, or the synth number one or two or three, or you go random. You listen to it once a week, and each time you follow something different. Before having thoroughly listened to this album it takes you a year, I've had it for a year and still listening to it on headphones I pick up pieces I hadn't even noticed, and when you notice one you forget another that you will rediscover later: an album that never ends, like Willy Wonka's lollipops.

Total, unparalleled, I repeat: my favorite album (which doesn't mean the greatest of all time, it means what it says). It has one flaw: it is out of print, and you can't get them even if you shoot yourself in the gonad in front of Simon Price, so many thanks to Rocky.

Feed Your Heads.