Want to veer into outer space, where time and distance mean nothing at all? Where velocity does not kill. Where one can drift along for eons? Axiom 9 are a talented crew from Madrid, Spain and this album is a 74-minute single track composition! Take that, modern radio! Naturally, the setting here is an extended live in-studio jam featuring Ana Marin on 5 string bass, a jazz drummer by the name of Daniel G. Bruno, and dual guitarists David Blas (doom), and German Fafian (7 string) while synthesizer patches were programmed by German and triggered by Ana. It’s a noisy, boisterous, acid-drenched interplanetary excursion that throttles along at its own pace, the phasers on stun, with occasional teleportation from Scotty.
Patrolling the cosmos is never a perfunctory affair, with constant ebb and flow, contrasting dynamics, fade-ins and fade-outs, with just enough rhythmic complexity to startle even the most jaded astronaut. Bruno’s cymbals work alone is worth the price of launching into orbit, a splashy yet technical display that had my LED sensors smoking and my speakers on the verge of disintegrating. Contrast that percussive percolation with the twin axe attack that screeches, erupts, dissolves and rebounds like an extra-terrestrial chameleon bent on destruction. It’s not heavy, its leaden in a stodgy, Krautrock steamroller kind of way, as if a modernized King Tiger Panzer was suddenly given Warp engines and license to assault the senses mercilessly. Not all blitzkrieg, as the onslaught does occasional ambient period of thoughtful rest, but these Madrileños have a lot to chatter about (Damn, they speak extremely fast, btw!), so they don’t ponder sweetness for too long. Shoving the joystick into another rampaging gear is their claim to fame on this epic (no, mammoth) piece of music, the frenzied pace never static or hinting at deceleration. The foursome exudes a sense of gargantuan staying power, presumably washing down copious doses of sonic Viagra, with gallons of fortified sangria and enough collective insanity to keep their feet firmly on the pedals. When the engineer pulled the plug, the ensuing siesta must have been equally epic in the annals of Spanish slumber. One third of the way in, the pace veers towards bluesy agony, the sanguine guitars evoking intense pain, discharges of Hendrix and Trower self-evident and the pummelling incessant, too rolling stoned. Expectedly, the impudent turbo charge is activated and off they go into another loop around the sun.
The final half showcases some experimental guitar moans that would make Robert Fripp flip his lid! Tortuous, serpentine and phosphorescent leads that crisscross in controlled irrationality, the percussive elements become the organic beacon that keeps the listener from drowning in an ocean of reverb, sustain, echo and fuzz. Mercifully, the final re-entry slows down to an unhurried tempo, the exhilaration, contemplation and fatigue finally taking toll.
A dramatic landing and imminent recovery, the rescue choppers nearby .
A unique record to say the least, a marathon space rock extravaganza that has all the classic timeless attributes down pat. The good news is that it cannot and should not be replicated gain. It’s a one-off monster. The cover art is also modern and beguiling .
4 Prado Palindromes