Published February 25, 2015
Psychotic from moment one, “You Drive Me Insane” explodes into your consciousness like plunging down the first hill on a roller coaster. There is no escape from the insanity. A tsunami of intensity, this is like a lost, twisted surf single from the future. These forces converge into a mainline injection of RAW POWER. Echoes of Bo Diddley, Poison Ivy and The Sonics’ frantic guitars reverberate—the din of surfing in the eye of a hurricane in hell. Looking forward to death and the transcendence that accompanies it, a potent patchwork of rage, ascending and magnifying until… “All Your Sins” leads you to the depths, the dark night of the soul. A sensual longing and heart sick for unrequited needs. Love is consummated in a torture chamber, each crack of the whip drawing blood. Resentful and biting, more harrowing than the blues have ever been, this is all black. Passionate and despairing, a flickering flame exposing the darkness of lust. Sonically, given its sacrosanctity, this could be a track from Spacemen 3’s ‘Playing With Fire’.
Suddenly you find yourself dropped at full speed into a sunny-day disorienting spiritual, “In With The Out.” A zombie’s walk in the garden. Soon, though, the shadow creeps in, cutting through the illusions that encircle, and he would rather let the end begin. A disconsolate testament to the dispirited state that becomes one when there’s nothing left to care about.
“Let’s Go” is sardonic and vengeful, lyrically like “Heroin,” and with all the mystery of “Jack the Ripper.” Night again and time for a sinister walk with the full moon. True rock ‘n’ roll, emotive and captivating. “Careful, I’m Evil” picks up the stark and powerful beat where it left off, and your senses dive into a forbiddingly esoteric universe. “I don’t care what you want to do,” dual vocals entangling and enchanting, casting their spell. Ominous and unsettling, like the cobwebs of a nightmare, and you couldn’t move, couldn’t wake up, fixated on the incantation. “Kill Baby Kill” says what it means and is so alluring and provocative that you may actually desire him to kill you… as if you had a choice. A dense metallic syringe of virility, a throbbing amphetamine rush, like Gerard Malanga lifting weights onstage with the E.P.I. and Ron Asheton is there as well, stroking his Fender like it’s a shotgun. The last ride you’ll ever take. Cold steel to the heart and it beats no more. “Nuthin’s Real” explodes with menacing feedback, trippy percussion, and a wickedly revolving guitar riff that insinuates and reinforces the notion of spiralling down to pure hell. “Who Put The Ebb In The Ebbebebb” takes a step out of the netherworld to show some human—real blood-and-bones-quality—emotion. Instead of escaping to his darker corners, now is the time to love, or rather to consider the nature of love’s presence.
Contemptuously, “Absolute Garbage” shoots you between the eyes and proceeds to manifest into a fervent surf/soul party crasher. Frustrated and passionate, this man is speaking the truth in plain language to those who recognize the trash that we are… “I Hate Myself” is edgy and apathetic; and somehow, also beamingly positive.
“My Obsessive Love” glides in like smoke carried by the warm breeze, and the moon glows cerulean blue. The mood is uncertain and melancholic, cloudy like a dream, and one you never want to wake up from. “Tired” is equal parts hypnotic and narcotic, a mobile spinning above your bed. The sound you hear in the moments just before sleep hits. Stuck in a time loop, unbearably heavy, drifting, black out…
‘The Tower Of Foronicity’ is a synaesthetic and dynamic trip, bridging the gap between demonic and divine. It’s a film that you watch with eyes closed; the notes speak louder than the thousand words of a picture. The understanding of music is vast and multi-faceted and the focus dead-on. With each record Singapore Sling save rock ‘n’ roll.
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