Sula Bassana/Dark Days

While we blink and recover from Electric Moon’s last opus, Sula Bassana puts out another space/psych rock classic. Dark Days is virtually a one man show, with some added punch from Electric Moon vet Pablo Carneval on drums and David Henriksson of The Movements handling the vocal duties on opener Underground. Though not forsaken totally, Sula leap frogs over some of his mellower and electro-tinged voyages to deliver a platter that rocks as much as it gets off the ground. Where Electric Moon virtually sucks the air out and fills the remaining void with their solar-flared combustion, Dark Days offers a crisper Sula, one that snakes through the pockets of air and space. As always, his guitar playing is exceptional, taking on the role of centerpiece and driving force without pummeling the rest of the songs into submission. Underground is a straight-up rocker that’s both levitated by, and grounded in, a late 60s/early 70s vibe retooled for the modern age. Henriksson’s vocals are a perfect fit; flowing, wobbly and mysterious as he acts as cruise director through the underground, trading off with Sula’s wah-wah pedal exploitation. An exceptional opening salvo. Up from the underground, it’s time for Departure, a Hawkwind-flavored repetitious trek that lives fully up to its name and escalates Dark Days up higher, docking next with the arguable centerpiece, Surrealistic Journey. A 20 minute saga that rivals his work with Electric Moon for scope, but with a far more fluid, shifting early-Floyd suspension that builds and reverberates through the eye of some swirling organ storms. It’s a hallucinatory push and pull trip that stays on target, delivering plenty of hazed out detours. Both nebulous and razor-sharp, Surrealistic Journey is virtually a record unto itself. The title cut digs back down into the (under)ground for some grime and grind. Coupled with some soaring Mellotron, Dark Days is a peek into the engine room that drives Sula’s ship; heat, steam and flares from an exotic sun. Bright Nights isn’t the flip side to Dark Days, but here Sula shoots for the open spaces…gently vibrating and ringing through its initial lift-off. Bright Nights builds and folds into itself, focused on gathering mass over momentum for a full-on seething slow-crawl close, compressing itself into a diamond hard monolith. Arriving Nowhere, a winking misnomer, reaches back to some earlier, and gooier, ingredients for a pumping Krautrock flavored mammoth, stretching out to an almost 17 minute flight time. After moving through so many flavors and dynamics of space/psych rock so far on Dark Days, Arriving Nowhere is a natural progression…and destination. If Sula really has arrived nowhere, then you can bet your Tang and boosters he’s already in the planning stages to explore and colonize.

Dark Days is yet another addition to a body of work that is as staggering as it is satisfying. I came across a comment where someone made the quip that Sula must have cloned himself to keep up with his outrageous output, on his own and in his collaborations. Tempting, but his work is so consistently executed and realized there really can be no knock-offs involved. We’d hear it, feel it…and I doubt our intrepid captain would allow it.

Underground :: Sula Bassana :: Dark Days (2012, Sulatron)

You can check an interview with The Hardest Working Man In Space here.

Electric Moon/Cellar Space Live Overdose

Cellar Space Live Overdose (you can’t, and it isn’t), the new double wax monolith from Electric Moon, documents two shows; the first from Sula Bassana‘s ’12 birthday concert in Darmstadt, the other from the ’11 Sulatron Label Night in Fulda. It’s simple: 4 sides, 4 cuts, all but one clocking in over 22 minutes. And what’s buried and floating in the grooves is simply stellar; a top-shelf addition to Electric Moon’s catalog and a generous, teeming live chronicle.  Darmstadt’s evening bleeds out in a subdued, methodical crawl, naturally and patiently ramping up trippy layer after trippy layer. The Soul Feeder purposefully digs in for traction, and finally release as the corkscrew power surges kick in and thrive until the close. The Idle Glance builds up with some shimmering guitar and melody that’s carried through to the end, giving it an airier edge over the others…cosmically ventilated…There’s a melancholy sort of haze to it, taking its time to think, finding and revealing its quieter size along the way. Generating heat and gravity with more reflection, the Darmstadt night accents another facet of Electric Moon over Fulda, making the division of power clearer, and richer, from one platter to the other. LP2 eases in as well, though it has more spit and grind, with The Verge of Fainting being whipped into a neon lava maelstrom, full of detail and nuclear punch before easing back in for a soft landing. The Spaceman Return coasts aboard on some buoyant bass before the boosters kick in for the slow-burn ascend. An oscillating vibe propels him as much as it wobbles, moving forward by almost consuming itself. The Spaceman, packing some piss and vinegar in his flight-suit, cultivates a slash and burn vibe carrying him to the halfway apogee, starting a metallic chatter to remind you that he’s not returning here, he’s returning there. And he pushes the outer ring further out, getting both heavier and lighter while talking everyone down. It’s 4 sides of heavy, heady and lengthy trips that despite their size and girth, don’t feel bloated or full of useless cargo. The engine is on fully, driving the ship deeper and cruising at high altitude. An across-the-board crisp and thick sound quality captures Electric Moon in full flight, at full wingspan. As with every Moon release, there’s a certain something, a unique smoke ring, that sets it apart from its brothers and sisters and by its presence ties their whole output together. There’s no mistaking who’s in charge of the mission, who’s getting their hands dirty stoking the reactors. Electric Moon show again why they’re one of the few that can repeatedly deliver unexplored space and make it feel like home. Just ask the Spaceman.

Cellar Space Live Overdose is out in a limited 777 copy run on Sulatron Records.

Electric Moon :: Lunatics Revenge & Inferno

Sula Bassana must, in between pumping out and being part of some of the best psych and space rock albums around, take time out to eat and sleep. That said, I’m quickly coming to the conclusion that he’s not of this planet, so the rules don’t apply. Sula casts a mighty big, and long, shadow; from his solo output, shepherding Sulatron Records, Zone Six, working with Modulfix, The Nasoni Pop Art Experimental Band, Interkosmos…None of these ‘projects’ stand in the shadow of Sula Bassana. Once you dig into his work {…and then you’ll keep on digging. Trust me.} you’ll find that all these outlets are his shadow. You got to have light to make a shadow: Enter Electric Moon and all their slow-burning Technicolor lava light {Sula Bassana, guitar; Komet Lulu, bass; Alex; drums. Pablo Carneval takes the drum seat on Lunatics Revenge}. Three co-pilots fully dedicated and capable, this is about the music, the exploring. It’s about Electric Moon.

Last year’s Lunatic and the monster  two song double disc Live at Epplehaus already packed in enough creamy, heavy nutritious goodness, that if Electric Moon had opted to wane in 2011, nobody could fault them. Lucky for our heads and ears, they didn’t. They’re back with Lunatics Revenge {Nasoni} and Inferno {Sulatron}.

Vibravoid :: Minddrugs

‘Europe’s Number One Psychedelic and Acid Rock Band’ is back with, and probably on, Minddrugs {Sulatron}. The 5th outing from Germany’s Vibravoid does nothing to hinder their amplified mission to ‘turn back back clocks 40 years into the future.’

Minddrugs packs all the swirling technicolor pulsations you expect from Vibravoid, with a big bottom heavy end production that gives a slight sinister tinge to the trip. It’s the gelatinous psychedelic stew that Vibravoid serves up so well, but with big chunks of meat. And by the time you get to their 22+ minute take on Floyd’s Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun, you’ve got a lot to chew on before you swallow for another bite. Vibravoid create an air-tight fully self-contained universe from their sound right through to the presentation, without ever sounding like they aren’t moving forward.

Sula Bassana & Modulfix :: Brain Wash

For as prolific as Sula Bassana is, it’s hard to believe he has a brain left, let alone one to wash. But he does, and so does Modulfix, and they had the good sense to have another meeting of minds and drop the magnetic and groovy Brain Wash {Sulatron, 2010}. Thoroughly modern and of another time simultaneously, Brain Wash is a hypnotic, psychedelic slab of instrumental ear, and brain, candy. Lava lamps to planet caravans, Brain Wash spins and spirals a full and trippy load.

Opener Svensven Der Froschfosch oscillates along an electro roadway with dense layers of keys over a pumping driveshaft. Just as Svensven Der Froschfosch takes you up to the appointed apogee to fully break free, Brain Wash kicks in the big engines for a space rock exodus worthy of Hawkwind or F/i in prime flight. The drive thrums with the sort of subtle menace of Floyd’s One of These Days, stetching out so you can really sink your teeth into it. Brain Wash gains maximum height, fades out, and you’re eased into Horta, kicking in with a languid acoustic seduction. More melancholy than menace, Horta disperses out with the acoustic lines folding in on themselves and the background ingredients spiralling into a chorus…sung on Titan…Horta unfolds and churns until the ghosts are all blown away.

Electric Orange :: Krautrock From Hell

Hell yes.

Or at least some place a bit more moody … dark … bigger … muscular … very muscular. I’m not going to throw out “They’re the Schwarzenegger of krautrock!!!” One, well, he’s Austrian and two, that would lead you to think Krautrock from Hell is nothing but a pummel fest. It is not. It’s got lots of meat to it that’s for sure, but it’s not a lumbering, pedantic oaf. Electric Orange can bob and weave with the best of them.

Bandwurm sets us up perfectly with some spoken word that bleeds right into a rolling ball of drive that, for all it’s repetition, never gets repetive or monotonous. It’s hypnotic. The bass and drums clearly have a mission and never let up their pump. Tell-tale krautrock traits are in there, but it’s almost as if Electric Orange reached in and took out some of that bothersome bone, and left us a greater portion of meat. And what is muscle if not meat?