If you are just surfin' around the net on the lookout for this week's dime-a-dozen Richie Rich, aggression free, smiley-faced, redundant, Ramones tribute band with the obligatory Lewis leather apparel and Betty Page hair-do's, this might not really be your thing. But if your chakras are open to some really far-out psychedelic, cosmic consciousness, vibrating at a higher frequency, maan, this might be your new trip-room soundtrack.
Junkyard Prog, Freak-Jazz, Magic Mushroom instrumentals from other solar systems, other dimensions, other times. Kooky, Otherworldly, Stoner-Pop reminiscent of the Hendrix Experience, Blue Cheer, MC5 jams, King Crimson, solo Steve Vai records, it has an interplanetary sensibility, this guy obviously still communicates telepathically with Sun Ra, and Captain Beefheart, and Brian Eno and Lee Scratch Perry, ya know what I'm sayin'?
... ruminations of a horrified social distancer on his evaporating way of life in the shadows of the green death plague.
"I hate graveyards and old pawn shops For they always bring me tears I can't forgive the way they robbed me Of my childhood souvenirs.." - John Prine
"They tried to get me lots of times and now they're coming after you/ I got out and I'm here to say, Baby, you can get out, too" - Johnny Winter
"Love is land..." -Duran Duran
"Hidin' out and layin' low ain't nothin' new to me..." - Guns N Roses
Every morning brings bad news. I'm worried for Marrianne Faithful, John Prine has passed and a couple no-name rocknroll underground legends and personal friends you ain't never heard of. Alan Merrill of Vodka Collins and the Arrows' passing was a sad day, indeed. For years now, I've noticed how it's an annual tradition, almost a law, that some university bona fide but tragically lazy professional journalist writes an obligatory cover story at every entertainment weekly, each year, about the next big girl group, that suggests Joan Jett wrote the 70's glitter anthem, "I Love Rocknroll" by Alan Merrill and the Arrows, a really fabulous, bubblegum glitter stompin', unsung glam gang, and it kinda always makes me feel a bit conflicted about the perennial Jett-Lagg myth-protecting and gives even more credibility to those other Runaways gals who testify about Joan's management always deemphasizing their contributions to her worldwide brand.
Back when Guns N Roses and L.A. Guns, Cinderella, and Faster Pussycat were all the rage among our mulleted, stonewashed, demon headed silver ringed, metalhead bros from way back, me and my chain-smoking black T-shirted Hanoi Rocks friends would take crazy road trips to see our biker rock heroes CIRCUS OF POWER every chance we could get.
The classic line-up were everybody's faves, but this is a rare example of how ONE DUDE really can hold up the black flag righteously for the followers, as ALEX MITCHELL has consistently located a series of totally qualified new accomapniets to carry on the proud tradition. I don't know if you have a copy of his epic comeback album, "Four", or the follow-up, "Process of Illumination" yet, but I heard some of his new tunes and am just thrilled he continues to get down like an ageless holy barbarian motherfucker.
Not that many bands from the USA! USA! land of the misinformed, cowardly and unfree, can still make real rock ’n‘roll with this much heart and soul. In Big Al's own words:". “Growing up is a process. Drugs, alcohol, arguments….I wish we could go back to those early days, to the songs on that first record. That was the best Circus of Power ever was.”