Point your compass north and get your head east. Toronto’s Eastern Magnetics put the drama and drone out, and above, on their self-released debut. Eastern Magnetics is a tumbling, brooding campaign more full of big omens than doom and gloom. Varanasi Sleigh Ride and Go Down I’m Ready are downright warm as they snake their way through, and cuts like Wild Seed and Rest Easy tip their hat to their shoes a bit. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re harboring a Six.By Seven fan in their ranks by the way they control their wall of sound. They got the insistent chug of touchstones like Spiritualized coupled with some of the more psych-prog thump of outfits like Hopewell or Apse. Throw in the drama played up by others like Lumerians and its pull gets stronger, as slippery as it is to nail down.
The slow climb of most of the cuts, restrained vocals that float in and out; drumming that keeps rolling and lends an almost tribal feel, big keys up front…it all adds a warm tension that runs through the whole thing. Full of psych, prog accents, a little post-rock angularity here and there and an almost mournful whiff, Eastern Magnetics pulls you right in. Eastern Magnetics say they are “a Toronto based psychedelic rock’n'roll band.” You bet, but we all know that “psychedelic rock’n'roll” covers a lot of ground. And they do just that, start to finish. Sounding like they’re playing in a planetarium-turned-cathedral, or maybe the other way around, Eastern Magnetics built an outstanding debut full of enough drama and lift to fill the pews.
OK, maybe not a Chevy, but it’s a touch better. And bigger. And is guaranteed to get you through any roadblock.
And it’s Route 66.
I wish I had the green for this … I’ve seen Stan Ridgway (once with Jill Sobule, too … and with Gordon Gano and Mark Eitzel …strange, strange show …) and the Handsome Family and I can’t for the life of me, think of two other musical entities I’d rather be on a train with exploring the great wide open … it’s a perfect fit.
Hop the Mystery Train: If anyone out there in the ether makes it to this, I’d LOVE to hear all about it …
I’m not sure if has any meaning, but Postal Rates are changing on Sept 8, the day we see Motörhead. So, that date is gaining importance. Uh, yeah …
I’ve been rapidly trying to fill in a few holes in the Motörhead canon as D-Day looms. To be perfectly honest, I was expecting to be somewhat disappointed as I revisited some of Motörhead’s later platters. I mean, I still follow Lemmy and the band, but my heart has, and still, lies with the classic tour de force (Fast Eddie, we’re still here …). But as some of those holes are being plugged I’m finding a great new appreciation for the “later” stuff. Sure, there ARE misfires (“March or Die?”), but who doesn’t have them? With a history as illustrious as theirs, a few steps back is a small thing. To paraphrase Bob Dylan they can’t be expected to knock it out of the park every time. They still stand head and shoulders above most. In fact, the fact that they are standing at all is a living testament. To almost everything.
I think in the past I’ve always had a hard time partitioning out their legacy. And most of the time, it’s separating that out from Lemmy himself. Their output and mythology is so overwhelming that making those clear divisions was tough. But it all seems to gel now as I revisit and re-hammer. Down underneath all that grit and oil and grease, the same heart still beats. Pretty damn hard, too. Maybe it’s because I hold them up so high on a pedestal (that coming from a dork who had framed picture of Lemmy in his bathroom for years … and a honey that put up with it … and wears her own Motörhead shirt as well …that’s love, kemosabe…) that the big picture is so …BIG. But, like any other band, they got highs and lows, and phases. The classic all-pistons-firing stage, the break-out, the stilted follow up (“Iron Fist”), the transition (“Another Perfect Day”—much maligned and much misunderstood, but an odd masterpiece in their run. Hell, Yes had “Drama,” Lemmy can have one, too …), a few days wandering in the desert, a hot reminder who they are and what it’s all about (“1916″), the stumble, (“March or Die”) and then a long stage of workmanlike craftsmanship (and I mean that in the most glowing, loving of terms).
Like my old decrepit dog, just for lasting this long, they … Lemmy, deserves respect. While most machines peter out, ‘head just keeps going. Going like an iron Energizer Bunny, banging the war drum. It’s a constant campaign on the most visceral gut level.
Is this all going somewhere? Probably not. But then you knew that. I’m just getting fired up for the band and want to add my voice to the chorus that praises the Man. Forget Keith Richards, forget Elvis; Lemmy is the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll. If he’s not, in the end, he will undoubtedly be crowned King. He just has to be. There has to be some natural order. And what happens when Lemmy has run his course? To be honest, I can’t see it happening. He’s not going down easy, nor should he. Rock ‘n’ roll a young man’s game? Bull. He’s proof. After this mortal coil I can only imagine Lemmy taking the battle beyond the stars.
Think about it: Lemmy hammering it out beyond the stratosphere. I can see it. I want to see it. I want to hear it. I want to watch the planets get realigned forcibly. And he’s the one to do it.
"This show is 110% … one of the most consistently awesome programs we have come across."
The Sunrise Ocean Bender sets sail every Monday morning, 1 – 3 a.m. on WRIR lp 97.3 FM, to find something for your ears, and something for your head … From psych to prog to pop and whatever tributary we can find on the way … and right back around again. There might be a map, but the destination is up for grabs. If it all goes right, we may just get lost. Meet me at the muster station … it might be a long week.
Point your compass north and get your head east. Toronto’s 
Cracked by Scattered Needles {podcast}
