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Rating: What is it like when you experience the sensation of a transporting pleasure, a slow ride on a roller coaster but strolling through the Universe? Creaks, sirens, space probes wheezing spread over a slice of Gibson guitars that create a powerful and hard-to-digest blend.
An album that sounds a bit like Electric Wizard's "Saturn's Child," except for a few Indie Classic Stoner flare-ups ("New War", "Thin the Herd", "Queen of the World"). For the rest, it's all good stuff for a nighttime drive, preferably in bad weather, the rhythms of "Lazarus", "Devil's Flower", and "Norpo" will make you drive slowly, and the heaviness of the sound will turn your car into an indestructible heavy stone.
It's really pissed off, it's not post-rock, it's very psychedelic, it's not very reasonable.
This huge dose of magma is propelled by a voice that is also "differently sweet," something like Tunde Adebimpe from TV on the Radio with phlegm and in the throes of a hysterical crisis being calmed by David Yow from Jesus Lizard.
Only one word can encapsulate all this: Opium.
Salt the Wound, U.S. Christmas. For a Christmas that hurts.
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