Wo Fat
The Black Code

LA RECENSIONE

Wo Fat believe in the Riff.

They emerged from the smoky, unsavory pubs of Dallas with a pending load of beer, wah wah, passion, and astro-space balls, drawing all their stench from the '70s, taking notes from the blues masters immersed in the woods of the Mississippi delta, and making their own the ancient arts of analog recording and tube amplification. The music of Wo Fat (the moniker itself is the embodiment of the slant-eyed villain from the chilling TV series Hawaii Five-O) is overwhelming music that remains perfectly anchored to the paradigm of its inspiring fathers (Sabbath, Mountain, and ZZ Top) yet allows for the most unbalanced jamming, the utmost freedom of improvisation possible. The result is the 46 minutes of ''The Black Code'', a psychedelic blend of hefty heavy-rock, dusty blues, and hefty stoner-doom lovingly strummed the old-fashioned way. ''Groovy smokey and trippy,'' as those who know how to write reviews might say.

Balsamic to the speakers like a walking vegetable invoked from some obscure cosmic swamp known only to Wes Craven, the Texans deliver us a succulent mixed-fried platter of the south, a blues-infused version of chimerical hoodoo shacks ('''Hurt at Gone'''), downtuned riffs (but also spat-on riffs), ravenous undead (''Lost Highway''), bloody Cerberus in the backyard and otherworldly worlds (''Sleep of the Black Lotus'') where the Riff reigns supreme. It's practically as if EC Comics locked J. Lee Hooker and Kyuss in a studio, forcing them to produce the soundtrack of Lovecraft's latest science-fiction tale.

Wo Fat believe in the Riff. But you, the reader with your steaming recreational tea between your fingers, do you believe at least a little in Wo Fat or do you, yet again, only believe in Santa Claus?