The Myrrors
Burning Circles In the Sky

THE REVIEW

Desert sounds like a cricket's chirring and spiritual chants.

It's all in Mother of All Living: sounds and phrases that stereoscopically lead to a multifaceted sonic dimension. Illusive yet carnal, these compositions proudly uphold the banner of new psychedelia infused with folk and ethnic music.

The tracks are elevated by indistinguishable planes of overlap of a plausible half-sleep, where the instrumentals live in continuous coalescence of the parts. Like in Plateau Skull, the vocal lines are elusive and almost devoid of their own density; like in Warpainting, the guitars drag themselves sharp and/or dehydrated.

The debut of The Myrrors (2008) thus confirms itself as a tensor of sounds as solemn as it is hallucinogenic: music seemingly obsolete that masterfully carries forward psychedelia as a continual search and pilgrimage in mental perception.

And therefore the music sounds like a journey into the deep solitude of the desert in peace with oneself but still boiling and simmering hot, engrossedly floating with visions and ghostly hallucinations from a strange world, even sometimes like taking a stroll in the garden of Eden.

A still boiling night desert.