New Geocentric World Is the Latest by Acid Mothers Temple & the Melting Paraiso UFO, Yoko Ono's Spiritual Godchildren
The musical colors that make up Acid Mothers Temple have exposed themselves to me as brightly as day-glo acid rain, opening my eyes like a good two-day brain-melt on Orange Sunshine. The fact that they're Japanese only makes them more exotic. After all, they could have been Shonen Knife, or even Guitar Wolf, but they chose to become something so much more.
Due to the experiments of searing ax-blasters like KK Null, as well as the gushing windchime-cum-Avalon Ballroom '66 effects of Ghost, the Japanese have established themselves as premium psych merchants, and Acid Mothers Temple is knee-deep in the foggy blare. Take the opener, "Psycho Buddha," for instance: this is primal caterwaul of the most extreme variety, a sonic wind tunnel of rolling smog with pieces of flesh flailing around and ending up in your mouth. Strangely enough, to me it sounds a lot more harmonious than any of that hiphop blare?now that's noise. Despite the chaotic atmosphere of this track, it's remarkably "together." Whereas some "noise" excursions come off like studious examples, all stiff formality, this is organic?not to mention orgasmic?like all true psychedelic music should be. The 12-piece ensemble here offers up everything from great carved-out guitar-noise sculptures to ultra-weird vocal-chant murk to skidding feedback to pounding percussive madness to, in this song, something that sounds like bagpipes. This track is more than 20 minutes long and that's just the beginning?every track deserves to be heralded.
"Space Age Ballad" is a weird pastiche of unraveling folk combined with escalating swirls of hallucinatory tumult and ancient-sounding chants. With such a large ensemble, the Acid Mothers can utilize a wide variety of eclectic contraptions such as violin, tenor and soprano sax, bazouki and some instruments with names so weird I have to wonder if they're putting us on (although I think I know what "mescalina" means).
"You're Still Now Near Me Everytime" comes the closest of anything I've ever heard to evoking the ultra-warped parallel universe of the first two Amon Duul II albums. Don't play this for schizos or manic depressives, but acid-eaters are all right (especially if they're the type o' nebes who consider groups like Phish to be appropriate lysergic accompaniment.)
There's a lot of maddening oscillator swirl on this album, and a lot of sheer over-the-top guitar indulgence. Sheet upon sheet of rippling guitar is piled up to produce virtual landscapes of sound. Like the Brian Jonestown Massacre and their "mod" affectations, these guys actually transcend their musical and spiritual roots?because there are damn few 60s psych LPs that sound as whacked-out as this. The aforementioned Amon Duul, maybe the first two Red Krayolas, some ESP stuff?otherwise, this is in a class of its own. Yoko Ono in her original formulation might be the spiritual godmother to these guys. In fact, if La Monte Young and Tony Conrad had gotten mixed up with Yoko instead of the Velvet Underground, it might've come out sounding something like "Universe of Romance." "Occie Lady" is outright aggro-roar on a Fun House level with lots of Ron Asheton-like strokes of madly fluctuating wah-wah. At one point about five minutes into this deafening opus the guitars open up and cry just like Asheton's or Blue Cheer's Leigh Stephen's did.
"Mellow Hollow Love" is an opus in two parts, the first a somber piano thing that is the sparsest moment on the LP. Occurring when it does, after the sonic sandblast of "Occie Lady," it's almost soothing. It leads into another semi-acoustic mantra, this one punctuated by almost Arabic-sounding emissions from the bazouki or some other odd instrument from the band's arsenal. As far as psych-folk goes, this is the best thing to come along since the P.G. Six album a few months back. "What Do I Want To Know (Like Heavenly Kisses Part 2)," the closer, is a droning piece of post-apocalyptic hover-sprawl that gently eases into its own well-planned demise. What more could you ask? If any new album demands your attention, it's this one. Come along if you dare.