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Rating: A lanky little man steps onto the stage, surrounded by a silence that is likely not one of veneration but of indifference. He approaches the microphone, with his eyes in his hands. "Good evening, the first song we will perform for you tonight is called Mary Ann."
For Spacemen 3, the concept of live performance consists of taking four stools, placing them on stage, and sitting on them while repeatedly executing a harmonic progression of three chords, staring at their shoes (magic word...). A collective session of mesmerization. On the other hand, this can be more boring than staying in Viserba with Giuliano Ferrara for those who do not agree with Sonic Boom, according to whom the greatest effect achievable in music is obtained by having the least number of instruments producing sound. This way, it becomes more direct, even dense and consistent. This is the main objective for the little space men, a great global trip properly assisted by any kind of existing drug, from cannabis to methamphetamine - just fiiiiiiiiive seconds - from coke to heroin, as they have tried them all. Much like their audience. Honestly, it unnerves me quite a bit during a concert to see the person next to me floating in the air with totally disjointed, annihilated limbs, bending their back at angles worthy of a limbo dancer, out of time, but apparently, this is exactly what they want to see in front of them while they make noise. And I truly believe they succeeded with this concert from the now distant (sigh) 1988, in the Netherlands (surprise, surprise...) at the historic Melkweg, a point of no return, I believe, for the few spectators who probably, at the end of the 13-minute concluding "Suicide," a tribute to the eponymous group, will have either a) consumed illegal substances in quantities worthy of a panda or b) met the same fate as Anna Karenina. Few words can be spent regarding the performance without spilling into the usual phrases properly accompanied by adjectives like "lysergic," "hypnotic," and such, so I will avoid any such intervention.
You all know what to expect from this album (we'll put some love deep in our veins), and that's exactly what you'll find, nothing more, nothing less. There's the obsessive energy of "Sound Of Confusion," the psychedelia of "The Perfect Prescription," in the air the scent of the ethereal flight of "Playing With Fire." Even the two cover songs performed (Roller Coaster by the old 13th Floor Elevators, with whom they have not a few things in common, and Starship by the wild Sun Ra) undergo an anesthetic treatment that makes them rather unrecognizable.
Taking drugs to make music to take drugs to make music to create 62 minutes and 14 seconds of interstellar travel.
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