LUPUS
GOLEM – persuaded by the man who ate the phoenix
(CD,
Twilight Luggage)
Anciodivinophagie is a psychotic sickness
whose main symptom is the desire to devour ancient divinities or at least
legendary mythological beasts. It is an ugly way to spend your time because
first of all monsters and ancient gods are hard to come by in our days of
interactive mobile online solutions and twentyfour hour commercial
newscasts. Second, and that is worse, any kind of error leads to terrible
consequences, because on the one hand nobody likes to be eaten, even if by a
misunderstanding, and on the other hand, the desired effect of transferring
godlike powers to your own physical existence is of course nil. If I could
chose a superpower it would probably be the ability to make things invisible
including myself. Yeah, I am a greedy bastard. If they can’t see it, how
can they tell I am shoplifting? Time trave is a pain in the ass, by the way,
and laser beams out of your eyes is not half as cool in real life as it
looks in the comics.
It is now your turn to decide which parts
of this paragraph are made up. Next it is your turn to do the Rorschach test
hidden in the cover of this record. And then tell me how a three piece band
whose major past time is to relentlessy bang on their instruments in a harsh
and steady and stubborn way can be so goddamn good? It is not the droning,
because even though their three longish avant rock pieces sound like free
form guitar noise during the first round, the steady crashing cymbals and
drums are to tight and rockish to allow the trancelike abduction of
mindpower that is essential of good drone. A close by effect is achieved by
the power of volume alone, but that is not it. It is also not the mix of
Skullflower size of sound and Melvins like heaviness that makes you sit back
and wonder about how actually really loud noise is metamorphised into
adrenaline in your brain. And it definitely is not the DVD package this CD-R
comes in, because I don care for that.
Maybe it is just that these three tracks
that make up “persuaded by the man who ate the phoenix” show are a
document of a one day romp through a Norwegian home studio that despite the
lacking sound quality of the recording (not that I would care for that
either, but I know there are some readers out there who can tell the
difference between the soundboards that have been used in a studio by
listening to 192kbp decoded mp3s on their hyper-pods in a crowded train)
documents the unabridged and burning energy that avant rock is able to spew.
Usually this kind of spark is limited to the few people banging and crashing
in the rehearsal space, but then other artists have built a career on this.
A small-sized, underground career that brought them record reviews in Wire
magazine or on websites like this one, but still enough to eke out a living.
