Fuck you Bruce, farewell my Lord, and Blacker Sabbath - IN SEARCH OF SPACE #91

Well shit, someone turned off the Boss's mike and now the internet is a-buzzin' with retardation on all fronts. I'm stuck in the middle because I don't wanna be the prick who says the Boss probably shoulda picked a better venue if he was gonna moan about it; and I don't wanna be the prick who says that if you're hosting a concert, you ought to turn it up and let them play and if y' ain't prepared to do that you might as well not have a gig at all; I definately don't wanna walk in steps of Steve Zahn when he said "who are we disturbing on a Saturday night", failing to remember that not everyone in the whole universe works Mon-Fri nine-five, or indeed likes to listen to two greats meeting on a stage and listening to them take three hours about noisily going over the hill. I've said what I want to about the amps, apparently they only play 76 paltry decibels, which is quieter than headphones sound turned full-up... Now it behoves both parties here, the organisers and council and the side of the man, to put on a decent show or not put on one at all, but if they really were bald enough to want to do this, then the Boss and all his army of retards oughta have said "no thanks, I'd rather play how I want, when I want", and seeing as he accepted the constraints, to then break them shows a certain arrogance on his part, that he accepted the conditions thinking they didn't really apply to the Boss, which I can fully believe but have to say I don't much like. I don't want to be the guy who says any of that stuff, even though I now awkwardly have (im a riter!!!) because this debate is getting retarded on every side. I would, however and if you’ll indulge me, like to call out Dominic Lawson for his piece in the Independent, although I feel interacting with such people for any length of time will make me a prick by proxy, and I reckon the whole point of his unintelligent, classist, generalised and ill-informed piece was to get his name around through responses such as mine. Well fuck it, clickity click on that link and give him the views because he's debased himself just to get yer click so it's worth spreading the word of how idiotic his piece is. His qualm seems to be straight outta a misguided Dylan fan's poetry book circa Dylan-goes-electric, I imagine he was the idiot who shouted "Judas" but this can't be independently confirmed. Amplification is damn awesome! It gives young men a sense of power and weight in their poetry it is otherwise difficult to find. It democratises music to an extent never before known, when a crowd of young men (or preferably women) in a tiny pub somewhere can summon the wattage and decibels hitherto only captured by Wagner's killer bass-loaded orchestra, and the power to shut the whole crowd out. Amplification, he said, makes it possible to disturb people who aren't at the gig, the residents around Hyde Park, fer instance; missing of course that that's the whole point of amplification. We, the initiates of the rock and roll revolution are prepared to instigate this uprising bloodlessly, but if necessary the vast bald masses will have to be blown out of their living room chairs on a surfable wave of rock and roll so loud and omnipresent that they can't run from it and they can't ignore it, both old and new, from every source imaginable until they too have that piercing insight that rock and roll is the way to save the world. Of course I'm biased up the arse and I'd have this shit piped into supermarkets and nurseries, but the inalienable right to kick out the jams is something that should override the rights of any individual not wishing to currently kick out the jams. Fuck you and yer sleep fuck you and yer other preferences, this is for your own good! Why won't anyone listen to me? Rock and roll ain't straightforwardly beautiful, like Janis Joplin, it's beautiful because of what it can do. Rock and roll is a mirror for the world, and there's a whole lotta bad, whole lotta abrasiveness and a whole lotta hurt, even in a perfect world you'll still stub yer toe and get dumped by yer wumman so rock and roll's darker passes are vital sonic travelling for true spiritual enlightenment. Dominic Lawson also makes reference to the Queen's dislike of rock and roll (fuck the Queen, not literally, but the institution of saying one person is better than all the others when really we're all just different parts of the same consciousness experiencing itself subjectively) and the beauty of the National Gallery Concerts in the early 40s (fuck the past, the future is where it's at and the most awesome time is resolutely NOW, go and live in the past if it was so much better... oh wait you can't so better start loving the future 'cause you'll spend the rest of your life there). Dominic, Dom, Dommy baby, Dom's bollocks, Dom Perignon, Dom Giovanni, Dom to the hills (Dom for your liiiiiife): I freakin' dig that you're into music, this blog is dedicated to finding endless ways of saying it's the greatest pleasure, and you must dig that I'm into music, and we must both dig that we're into different things; but you've just got to accept that rock and roll, while unsuitable for most of the straighter population of the world, is the only true solace and very definitely the cure for what ails us, while not wishing to draw unfortunate lyrical comparisons, I'm a soldier of the rock and roll revolution armed with an amp and prepared to go to sonic war, and if you ain't with us, you're against us baby. Enjoy the show!


And it is with great sadness we bid fond and tearful farewell to one of the foremost sonic alumni, someone who went to the edge of rock and roll space, looked over the side and told us all what he saw in ballads of stunning electric fury of such prescient power and essential truth that even today they’re considered the gateway band to a whole lifestyle they helped create. Deep Purple, while only with one perfect album (In Rock y’all, don’t even try and argue) have done more than most for the advancement of the rock and roll revolution and at the nexus of them for years has been Jon Lord with his keyboards that almost singlehandedly held up Child In Time. You did so much for us Jon, your essential vibe will be sorely missed, but you leave us with a blueprint, dear Lord, and we can sit happy knowing you were able to nail the beauty of that image before you left. You did so much for us; now, go take it up with the gods.

It would seem appropriate while the angst of this passing still hangs serene around us to bring to the fore a new release influenced by those now classic Deep Purple tapes, and while I can’t say the Balam debut is influenced, it’s true that to review rock and roll at all is to talk about Deep Purple’s legacy, aside from that there isn’t too much direct lineage, so I won’t pretend there is. Balam certainly don’t cite Deep Purple, they prefer to think of themselves as the difficult step-child from the Sleep-Om consecutive marriages. The artwork is there for a tasteful Om-esque thinking-man’s-metal, and the telegraph-wire bass opening would sure up that assessment; but this self-titled demo contains more of the thudding Blacker Sabbath riffs of Sleep, more anger, more Iommi worship even than the Holy Mountain dudes, fo’ sure because this thing plays like a fully psyched-out Sabbath tape, something from the early days though because the guitar tone is just punishing. It’s psychedelic too, bitta Blue Cheer distorted soloing goes on in this beast. You haven’t come to this party for the soloing have y’? Nope, you’re here for the monolithic riffs that could stand in for Kubrick’s black slabs, well astral voyager you’ll sure get your fill and then some. The riffs are mountainous, singular and with a drive and verve and purpose that is as thuddingly heavy as they are decibel-wise. This isn’t like the Boss, capped at 76 decibels, no baby, even the opening telegraph bass-strum is louder than that, and it just tees off the riff which crashes in like a battleship through your front room. The riffs waft out of your stereo and sit heavy as reefer clouds in the air, for what seems like fucking hours too, but then this EP is damn long. Only half an hour total though so aside from being a thoroughly modern throwback to the beautiful Sabbathian times I don’t have too much to say about it. Bruce Springsteen is a fuck, as is Leith Penny, and none of them should overshadow the sad loss of Jon Lord from these celestial planes. Go and download Balam, and give them yer dosh. If you’re unsure, download for free, listen, then give them some cash.

Written under dumbness by Steven.

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