The Godspot/The Dust on a Moth’s Wings

“Freedom might only last a 45 minute set, but its enough to get me through till the next show.”

Vancouver’s The Godspot shake, and deliver, The Dust on a Moth’s Wings with the kind of energy and abandon squeezed from that pressure. There’s that frantic vibe through the playing, and the Gibby Haynesian nasally bark in the vocals, but The Godspot are clearly in swaggering control of the last stab. Scurrying underneath the opening barn burner title cut’s Surfers-meet-Hawkwind furnace to the hazy and wobbly barbed lushness of closer Pretends, and all points in between, are simply good songs. There’s just enough of both layers sparring with each other to keep The Godspot sounding as if they might fall apart before their 45 minutes are up, and if they do it will be at just the right spot. That jousting is driven home by Ryan Edward Johnston’s vocals, doling out perfect measures of manic snottiness and real heft. Musically they do the same, with the weight of Died in the Water (But Didn’t Drown) and Pretends putting some pillars under their loose shambolic sheen, proudly on display in Mechanical Bulls. Initially it may seem scattershot, but once it grabs hold, The Godspot are clearly making their mark, and occasionally leaving one. Wanted or not.

“…so if you think we sound too much like a certain band, well I could give two shits, just enjoy it for Christ sakes.”

The Dust on a Moth’s Wings :: The Godspot :: The Dust on a Moth’s Wings (2012, The Godspot)