I did not create a top in 2022 for various reasons, one of those being that I didn’t feel like it, but also because when I asked myself the question “Are there any 2022 albums that really stuck with me?”, nothing came to mind. Why? Was the year that bad? Probably not. But nothing resonated with me, except maybe All Them Witches’ Baker’s Dozen, though that was not really an album… Just wasn’t in the mood.
Anyway, some albums stuck with me in 2023. They are here in no particular order because ranking is competition, and competition is a capitalist social construct responsible for destroying the world. Also, it would change according to the weather, the time of the day, and the beating of a butterfly’s wing on the other side of the globe.
So this is a bit of a digression, really. A musical stroll. Mostly oriented on the psych side of stoner, as I am. A good one though, only killer albums here. Hope you’ll enjoy them as much as I have. Note that despite the evidence, this article wasn’t written under influence.
Let’s start traveling.
I start my stroll wandering around floral bushes – mixed bright colors and powerful scents, under a cloudless sky. The sun shines bright, uncontested. A light breeze is blowing, making the warmth perfectly bearable. I’m in the English garden of a castle, somewhere in Tuscany. I lie in the lush grass and look at the blue sky. It’s the beginning of summer and nature is at its peak. It’s a happy place, perfect for listening to albums such as Edena Garden’s, by members from Scandinavian bands Papir and Causa Sui, which released two (!) albums this year: Agar, and Dens, both, of course, on El Paraiso. Power trio, gentle psychedelic jammy rock with creative jazz influences. Entirely instrumental, of course. I enjoy this intricate yet soothing music that relaxes me.
It’s time to move on. I get up and walk in a landscape of gentle hills, covered in long grass, both earth and sky are infinite, I am now in the American Midwest, and I sit atop a hill, a straw stuck between my teeth. The perfect place to listen to Garden Party, by Rose City Band, Ripley Johnson’s (Wooden Shjips / Moon Duo) take on country music. We are still on very calm, very eerie grounds, with a soft voice and tingling guitar. But now some clouds appear, and the wind picks up. What was all sunshine is now a patchwork of light and shade, and the effect of the wind on the grass creates infinite variations of shimmering. The ground rises, and we gain altitude, landing on a plateau of infinite grass and rock. I’m on the Causse Sauveterre, in Lozère. Time accelerates a bit to match the tempo of White Canyon & the 5th Dimension latest album, Gardeners of the Earth. I was simply nodding my head at the music before, now I get up and start to dance, quickly joined by the local animal spirits. Dusk falls as we light a big bonfire to continue dancing around. The music is lively, shamanic, with a lo-fi production reminiscent of the 13th Floors Elevators, with a definite psy-gaze inclination.
The night has now fallen, and I let the last embers of the fire die to look at the sky, full of stars, unpolluted by the lights of civilization, revealing an infinity of stars. A perfect setting to listen to Giobia’s latest album, Acid Disorder, which, after 2020’s Plasmatic Disorder which left a lot of people disappointed, is a comeback to grand cosmic psychedelic music with electronic vibes that will speak to the raver in us. I lay peacefully, gently rocked by the music, now seeing Northern lights lazily dancing to the rhythm. I close my eyes and I let go, traveling through space, seeing first the Milky Way from above, then moving to dust clouds, other galaxies…
Then a raindrop lands on my face. I open my eyes as the light drizzle turns into a shower. The scenery around me has changed dramatically. I’m in the middle of Manhattan, traffic rushes by me, endless lines of cars, people all over, the air is filled with the hopes and dreams of hundreds of thousands of people tirelessly living, and the music of Kanaan’s latest Studio album, Downpour, the concretization of the heavier turn the band took with Earthbound in 2021. Downpour is fast, unrelenting, the rhythmic part is beyond perfection, and, to me, the perfect soundtrack for a nightly urban walk.
That put me in the mood for some more excitement. I stumble into flashing orange neon lights pointing to a dark alleyway, spelling out the words “AND NOW… DOOM”. I enter the alley and walk in darkness for a few meters before stumbling on a metal door. There is no handle to be seen but when I knock, it opens, revealing a long metallic hallway suspended into nothingness. As I progress, music rises: Domkraft’s Sonic Moons is playing. In sync with the music, shapes and colors emerge. They are mostly unfathomable, incomprehensible, but they do not mean any harm. As I continue walking, they quickly fly by me. I do not know anymore if I’m moving forward or if I’m just walking on a treadmill. The music is getting louder, the shapes are becoming bigger as they hurl past me. I’m lost. All of a sudden, the music stops, and I fall.
After some time, I land in a black, sticky ooze. The air is saturated with thick dark smoke and the horizon burns a dense orange. I can hear the grating of rusted oil rigs in the distance. As I struggle to get up, Tar Pond’s Petrol starts. It’s not the most original doom I’ve heard, but oh boy does it work well. The clean vocals, more chanted than sung, the tunes, the heaviness of the whole thing, the riffs are now imprinted on my mind. There is little hope to be found here. But there’s no getting away. The more I struggle, the more I’m stuck. I am soon engulfed and start drowning. Soon, I don’t see any light anymore. It’s pitch black around me, I lose consciousness of space and time… And Pruillip’s eponymous album starts to play. I thought Tar Pond was depressing, but I wasn’t ready for this sludgy duo with feminine vocals and the profound despair this album exudes. Expect mechanical rhythm, heavily distorted guitars, and sadness. Is there no way out? Will I stay here for eternity?
As I contemplate these thoughts, I sense an irresistible rebellion grow in me. This can’t be the end. This rebellion is fueled by The Psychotic Monks latest release: Pink Colour Surgery. Their rage-fueled noise rock is piercing the darkness, creating flickering maelstroms of bright white lights ripping through the black wallpaper of reality. I swim furiously towards one of those holes and escape to nowhere, an infinite nether cut with bright flashes of blinding lights. From time to time, the anger recedes, the lightning gets more bearable, just to explode again in a thunderstorm of rage.(Seriously, go check this band out if they ever play near you, they’re incredible. They have the Sacred Fire). Abruptly, it stops. I’m still hanging in the nether, exhausted from the struggle. But it seems I’m not done with weirdness.
A landscape forms, a green valley, with granite cliffs in the distance. As I stand there, trying to catch my breath, a face appears in the sky. It’s a giant, looking at me with curiosity. He starts laughing loudly as the music starts. I’m now listening to O Monolith, by Squid. The laughter of the giant echoes in distance as he lifts his face and departs. Now dozens of leprechauns-like creatures get in position and start weird movements, which could be qualified as a dance, to the music. How could I describe it? Squid is difficult to narrow. It’s one of those bands that take a bit of everything and invent something else with it as only English know how to. It’s all over the place, it’s crazy, it shouldn’t work, but it’s fascinating. Even if O Monolith doesn’t have absolute masterpieces like ‘GSK’ or ‘Narrator’, that will be with me forever, Squid still delivers a very solid album of nonsensical madness. I watch the leprechauns dance, not knowing what to expect next, but when the album is done, they just go as they came, leaving me wondering what the fuck just happened.
As I gather my spirits, a woman’s voice resonates in the air. It’s the beginning of Princess Thailand’s third album, Golden Frames. The band is actually playing right in front of me, on a huge truck’s bed. I’m in a car, driving on a populated highway. Around us, buildings fly by as we accelerate. We soon leave the city and enter a raw and desolate land, with black rocks burnt by millenia of exposure to the sun’s unrelenting rays. A few dry bushes cling to life. Insects are buzzing around. Mixing noise, new wave and post-punk influences, the band’s songs have a sense of urgency to them. Soon it’s dusk, then night. Above us, the night sky, untouched by light pollution. But there’s a feeling of danger in the air. We finally stop at a fuel station. The truck leaves, taking the band with him. I’m alone.
A man with a baseball cap, all dressed in pink and making a face comes to me and says with a heavy Dutch accent: “Bah, that was just the beginning. Listen to what’s to come.” That’s the way he introduces The Machine’s latest, Wave Cannon. A surprising mix of stoner, noise/shoegaze with pop melodies, making it a very surprising album, sometimes very light, sometimes very heavy, at the same time cheerful and dark. While the music plays, that guy in pink starts walking, gesturing me to follow him. We walk into some kind of a forest, except I can’t really see the trees, they’re just dark shapes sometimes illuminated by a flash of pastel colors, white, purple, or pink. The music drapes in waves around the “trees”, creating fluctuations in the volume, depending on the intensity of the music. Sometimes, the guy in pink turns to me, his face grows in size, and he sings the lyrics. But then, towards the end of the last song, his face distorts, and his whole being is being pulled in via what seems to be a hole in reality.
While I was watching him disappear, everything changed around me. I am standing on a metal floor, looking through a window at the infinity of space. It seems I’m on a vessel of some sort. The split between Rezn & Vinnum Sabbathi, Silent Future, is now playing. All the rich red colors that we see in space are gone. I see mostly shades of blue, and I realize I’m near the end of all things. Stars have lost their warmth, entropy has done its job, and in a few billion years, everything will be dark and dead. In the meantime, it’s still beautiful to watch. Blue giants and neutron stars are still active, some still agitated by raging storms and eruptions. I see supermassive black holes devouring what’s left of the galaxies that used to revolve around them. The album oscillates between moments of pure raw riffs that redefine heaviness and some much lighter moments, all embedded in that end of things feeling. The collaboration works wonders. But as I look at the desperation of the end of times, matter gathers in an immense accretion disc and starts aggregating together through the first notes of Helicon’s God’s Intention, and I’m propelled towards its center, where a multi coloured hole in space wildly turns around, ejecting splashes of brightly coloured liquid in all directions. I pass through the hole and end back on Earth, in the Scottish Highlands. The land is green, but barren. The weather is endlessly changing, inconstant, rain, sun, clouds, it seems it cannot make up its mind. There’s a distinctive feeling of nostalgia, but there’s always hope. Helicon’s music is difficult to grasp, and even more to define. The basis is definitely psychedelic rock, but there’s so much more to it, the mood really changes from one song to the other, it’s multifaceted but not all over the place. And it’s my favourite album this year. As I look at the soft hills and the torn land, the moon rises. I take a ride. To the moon.
Listen to the albums:
Edena Gardens – Agar
Edena Gardens – Dens
Rose City Band – Garden Party
White Canyon & the 5th Dimension – Gardeners of the Earth
Giobia – Acid Disorder
Kanaan – Downpour
Domkraft – Sonic Moons
Tar Pond – Petrol
Pruillip – Pruillip
The Psychotic Monks – Pink Colour Surgery
Squid – O Monolith
Princess Thailand – Golden Frames
The Machine – Wave Cannon
Rezn & Vinnum Sabbathi – Silent Future
Helicon – God Intentions
The post Mr. Momo Albums of 2023 appeared first on More Fuzz.
