Yob
The Illusion Of Motion

The YOB are pretty unlucky. In just a few years, they've managed to become one of the best examples of acid doom, distancing themselves from Electric Wizard, avoiding their hippie and shamelessly toxic attitude. They released "Catharsis" in 2003 and it's an amazing album. They signed under Metal Blade and dropped this "Illusion Of Motion", yet another masterpiece, clearly obligated to be a bit more metal, extremely fierce but above all finally refined as God commands, the God of Psychostonerdoom of course, who from up there (though he sometimes comes down because he says that hell ain't a bad place to be) watches and approves. If the group doesn't work, then he will frown and give a thumbs down from up high. But no need to look up because you can tell if the oil from the Pakistani who doesn't smoke is dripping from his giant finger. The proof that he liked the album is that when "Illusion Of Motion" was released, the sun was shining; otherwise, I'd be out with a bucket. The God of Psychostonerdoom is a handsome man. He has the face shape of Tony Iommi, including the mustache, Jus Oborn's dark baggy eyes, including the belly, Lee Dorrian's big sideburns, with his permanently smug expression, Matt Pike's gleaming white smile, including the smell, but ABOVE ALL the chin of that sweetheart Stephen O'Malley. For genitalia, he’s got Tommy Lee's, which has nothing to do with doom, but the size is intimidating.

The YOB have been judged favorably by the God with a sumptuous "HELL YEAH", so they shouldn't have any problems.
Yet they do, because Costantino is still alive, Cremonini is heavily into drugs and sleeps with fifteen-year-olds, Costanzo spends whole evenings at Isla Bonita while his husband gets pumped by an Albanian. Gays walk hand in hand down the street and kids look at them and don’t understand, but they often do the same. But YOB continue to work like mortals. Is all this fair?
These are also issues believers face (of any God). You pray for your family's happiness and serenity, but a drunk son crashes his car or a sister gets paid to have her ass hole wrecked by a fifty-year-old, and these things happen. Even though it sounds like a Muccino film, this too is life, always remembering that watching Live 8 on TV thinking you can save Africa isn't very smart.
The father who returns home from work at eleven at night after wasting 300 euros on video poker seems more like a quiet living issue to deal with. But it's nice to think of dressing up as superheroes for one night watching Pink Floyd together. And the believer wonders "God why do you let this happen?" God is cunning, doesn't care much, has no TV, and needs adrenaline broadcast worldwide to get by without girls up there.
My God of Psychostonerdoom, however, is different, more so than my bank. I don't question why he lets these things happen, he's always stoned, flips through LSD like the sports newspaper. My dilemma is understanding why Mike S. still works in a supermarket. Great man, Mike, one who says "knowledge and human tragedy rise from the sand and yesterday's tears return the same today" is really appealing. Praise O'malla.

PS: I wrote this last sentence last night and it meant something to me, but now at work with my polo on, it’s crap. Damn, but it's my God helping me understand. What a God I have.
PPS: Muccino is a fool, he knows those family breakdowns for real because he actually believes in them, because he is the fool he is.