Sincerity is burdensome and oftimes inauspicious.
Y brawd involuntarily recalls Jon Anderson's vexing liner notes for Tales From Topographic Oceans (on the hunt for a "big theme" one day, flicking through Paramahansa Yogananda's Autobiography of a Yogi , and - bingo! - timeless principles of the shastras: The Revealing Science of God, The Remembering, The Ancient, and Ritual...).
Thus Dave Heumann & Co.'s conceptual journey through Carl Jung's mystical archetypes - snakes, spirit guides, preternatural landscapes, doubtless a white bird or two, that sort of thing - augurs poorly. The heaviest price is lyrical: There is a righteous band that's marching/ They're beating on drums and even speaking tongues/ They're passing plates along/ Clothed in garments of the sun. 'Struth.
(Beware too those ashen riders on shadow mares as you walk out beyond the barriers of what is said and known.)
Po-faced overreaching notwithstanding, here is one gratifying assemblage. Vintage psych-riffs, overdriven bass in grand heavy folk epic mode. Richard Thompson off on a spree down among houses of the holy. A strait-laced though oddly apposite Jimmy Webb cover mid-point crash lands into 10 minute closing juggernaut Song of the Nile.
All in all, stirring sexless stuff. Ye gods, we even encounter inner-searching oceans. Cosmic Jon would be proud.
Y brawd involuntarily recalls Jon Anderson's vexing liner notes for Tales From Topographic Oceans (on the hunt for a "big theme" one day, flicking through Paramahansa Yogananda's Autobiography of a Yogi , and - bingo! - timeless principles of the shastras: The Revealing Science of God, The Remembering, The Ancient, and Ritual...).
Thus Dave Heumann & Co.'s conceptual journey through Carl Jung's mystical archetypes - snakes, spirit guides, preternatural landscapes, doubtless a white bird or two, that sort of thing - augurs poorly. The heaviest price is lyrical: There is a righteous band that's marching/ They're beating on drums and even speaking tongues/ They're passing plates along/ Clothed in garments of the sun. 'Struth.
(Beware too those ashen riders on shadow mares as you walk out beyond the barriers of what is said and known.)
Po-faced overreaching notwithstanding, here is one gratifying assemblage. Vintage psych-riffs, overdriven bass in grand heavy folk epic mode. Richard Thompson off on a spree down among houses of the holy. A strait-laced though oddly apposite Jimmy Webb cover mid-point crash lands into 10 minute closing juggernaut Song of the Nile.
All in all, stirring sexless stuff. Ye gods, we even encounter inner-searching oceans. Cosmic Jon would be proud.
Oddi wrth y brawd
8 comments:
I'll let you know how I get on with them this coming Thursday at the Borderline in that there London.
What do you reckon I should wear to it, then? The Wakeman cape or the Anderson khaftan?
Eh, I didn't think the lyrics suffered that much--then again, I'm the type of person who wishs more people would read Jung. Thanks for sharing this!
Hey PV-Y! Review anticipated (how about Steve Howe vest?)
Hey A. Mebbe y brawd is too harsh. Still a fine listen.
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'twas 'andsome mates. The intimate surroundings of the Borderline in Central London, even allowing for its odd sightlines and infuriatingly positioned steps, made for an ideal setting for Arbouretum's brand of stoner folk (an under-minded seam in my view) unless of course you count a field in Cropredy but with a hot-knives concession instead of a real ale bar. For what you get for the most part is Dave Heumann and his fellow hairies’ take on Fairport’s “A Sailor’s Life” and “Sloth” dragged through an industrial strength bong emblazoned with the legend “wig out – this way up, and face that way, damn you”. What it lacked in terms of variation it more than made up for in righteous and riotous vibe. With so much facial hair on show as to almost be considered biblical you might have been forgiven that you’d stumbled upon Charles Manson, Brian Blessed, Garth Hudson and Drumbo from the Magic Band giving Cecil Sharp a long slow one up the shitter (aurally and metaphorically speaking, of course). Well this was Soho after all (and after dark). Lyrically, I don’t much care if they were Carl Jung or Paul Young, that wasn’t the point of last night. I haven’t heard the new album yet, but on the strength of hearing Arbouretum live and from what I have heard of the back catalogue this should be one to savour. File under “good guys”.
“A Sailor’s Life” and “Sloth” dragged through an industrial strength bong emblazoned with the legend “wig out "
Ummmmm.......tasty
Hey, really loving this! Thanks!
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