Here's to the Future Primitives - IN SEARCH OF SPACE #101

(Or:- Thank god for the Future Primitives)

As much as I loathe descriptions of bands in this vein, usually written by publisher approved journalists trying to whisper between the lines kill me, please, please stop releasing records so I can do something else but in the case of the Future Primitives it kinda rings true. High Rise go surfing, the Electric Eels wash up on the beach, Detroit by the sea. I don’t know what to do with their music, dance like I’m with the Hell’s Angels at the Human Be-In in Golden Gate Park high on Nick Sands’ DOM tablets, all wavy arms and Vishnuations, or should I be kicking out the jams? Is it surf rock? Like Satan’s Pilgrims? The whole thing feels very Japaneesey if you ask me, very very protesty. They call it surf garage… which I can’t square because you can’t surf in any garage I’ve ever seen. You can hear they’ve been shooting up Gun Club. I dunno what to call it, but I sure like it.

It isn’t Japanese of course, this is from the same antipodean sunspot as day-trippers the Very Wicked, Soot Efreeka, and after looking this up, South Africa’s massive car industry is by the sea… Everyone, pack up your bags, sell your Leaf Hound vinyl and chuck away that Gun Club twelve inch you’ve never listened to and move to South Africa, they’ve got quality beer, beautiful women, great weather and they literally have a fucking Detroit by the sea! I can only presume y’ arrive by boat, probably as the evening is closing, and slowly you can hear the thunderous noise of the Future Primitives as you approach, quiet at first, but growing as the city draws nearer until you realise that ain’t the tide, the water is just jumpin’ and jiving to this seriously special sound being pumped so loud by this Motor City by the sea triptych and it heralds the coming of a new cocktail, a new cocktail we shall call the Future Primitive, it’s motor oil and tropical fruit. Nah, this isn’t NY in 1909, coming into Ellis Island, no-siree, this is the year twenty-frickin’-twelve, y’ come into Cape Town by jet plane, and presumably they open the door after hitting the tarmac, and the cool sea breeze hits you first, followed by a decibel wave of this surf-garage noise, right up the cabin. You’re in Cape Town now guys. (on a semi-serious note, I do intend to go to Cape Town and South Africa after graduation). There’s even a cover of the little-known Open Up Your Door by Richard and the Young Lions if you weren’t totally convinced of the total cross-genre cred of these heads…

The Future Primitives talk to the Godhead
Photo - Adriaan Louw
Beware of the bear. That’s what I mean, full Ken Kesey. What was once ‘be aware of the bear’ – be knowledgeable of the dangers while you are exploring, has become ‘beware of the bear’ be afraid of the dangers, shut your doors, buy more guns; lock yourself away, because there’s a world out there you don’t understand and you don’t want to let it in! We have lost something, we have become very very afraid as a few of us venture forward. Be sure that the Future Primitives are one of those thrusting forth and journeying across hitherto-unexplored pastures and steppe of sonic fury. Their songs are short, sharp, violent in the extremis with a punch and power socking you in the jaw repeatedly throughout and it’s so damn good. They’re at the forefront, so many artists are, hundreds to be sure, and yet that’s such a tiny portion of the beautifully bountifully massive population of this resplendent rock on which we all hurtle through the unnoticing, unfeeling, uncaring cosmos. They’re godless heathens and no mistake and that is what makes them so loving. In my experience, gods are bad. God is essentially the head figure of this formalised panic about death we all ritualistically go through. There are frightening questions out there, be sure. What happens when we die? Well, you do a whole lot less running and laughing and they lock you up in a wooden box with metal handles and cover you up with dirt and don’t even let you out for weekends; it’s really depressing. We all hope that there’s something more going on, which I guess is to be expected; but we’ve also let this ‘God’ dude (not Godhead or Great Magnet, both of those are straight-up divas who control only love, inebriety and music) infiltrate our living lives; and some people, whole lotta people, worship him better than they worship themselves or e other beautiful lovers all around them. Love of God has, does and will blind us to what we should all be realising. We’re all together in this deal, we’re all sitting in the movie theatre at the premiere of Life in glorious surround sound and technicolour and it’s very bright and very intense, you only get one ticket and the movie only plays once, and it can end at any time, so best enjoy every single moment of the movie. There is no God, I know this for certainty and I’ll sign anything you like to confirm it. You know how I know? I looked deep inside myself, and the God-heads (not to be confused with Godhead) insist that we are in the image of God, I looked deep inside myself and saw nothing except a vast gulf filled by me. There is no God, and the only thing we have is each other as we hurtle inescapably towards blackness and oblivion of multitude variety. The only thing we have, is each other, is our own love and our ability to project it on every last person all across this beautiful world. We are all one, dude!

Written under duress by Steven.

Post-script:- PHEW! That shit got he-vee right there for a minute! Gotta get pretty down on it to realise that there is only the love you can give, and if you base your life around something you can control you’ll ascend the zenith and become an enlightened being. If you can listen to the Future Primitives on the way, you’ll fill a little slice of your life with joyousness and easy love of a sort that the world needs right now. The rock and roll revolution is coming my friends, this darkness, this depravity, avarice and hatred is just the passing of greed; the last jerk of the old and evil and the inevitable rise of a better, cleaner, more honest world. Everything that doesn’t fulfil you spiritually will fall away, and be replaced by things that do. It’s all going to be alright.

Post-post-script:- PHEW! Listen to the Future Primitives. Their EP is free, and it’s good. Don’t just download it, if you like it, shoot them an email telling them you love it, and share it with all of your friends. Spread that love, nobody is going to spread it for you.

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