|Label:||Lovers & Lollypops|
You might have a cursory listen to this and envisage a blurry late night recording session with some extremely caned blokes exploring the outer reaches of 1970 via the medium of stoner psych. You'd probably be on the money. A little more focus, dedication and one-on-one time with 'Titans' will summon a 900 ft tall goat-faced Ron Asheton that would pluck The Gherkin from its City moorings and smoke that fucker down to the roach / entrance hall. Lock yourself away with it for a day or two and all manner of bejewelled sonic riches will reveal themselves, filho da puta!
The raw materials are the same, but Black Bombaim have voyaged far from the neat desert nuggets of their self-titled debut, pushing the side-long nameless jams even further than 2010's 'Saturdays and Space Travels'. All manner of guest appearances add sonic glitter and send this planet caravan into a distant nebula which is easily accessed by simply staring at your Nan's carpet for long periods. Listen to it. Details for the deaf or interested:
SIDE A Screaming open wah, the one obvious thread that runs through Black Bombaim. Yeah, wild noise. It will melt the fringes of Shoredicks trying to play in a post-afrobeat highlife style. The power trio drops out; massive tom rolls, a drum solo. Come on, you cunts...oh they did. With the only vocal performance of the album, now it sounds like a Black Metal band who got pissed off with Satan being so uptight and followed the blue smoke to Jerusalem with Gong and Blue Cheer albums under their arms. It grinds to a complete halt and the acoustic comes out. Holy shit, the studio has been shrunken and placed inside the sound hole; the low E is buzzing like an overhead cable. Finishes off with a stoner doom valve-melter. This is some nice gooey shit; I have no idea how these different parts add up yet, but then I don't know the physiognomy of a hummingbird.
SIDE B Emergency sirens, a heavenly organ vamp. This is what it will sound like when I die. Goes on a big space rock charge, ends up like watching Cream in a gorse bush. It sounds loud whatever volume you listen to it.
SIDE C Iommi has re-forested the world and rides heroically on his steed of doom. He spears a wild boar and invites us all to the spit roast, chestnuts available for herbivores. Saxophonist Steve Mackay, who played on The Stooges' 'Fun House', gets the party started with a dirty great wad of sleaze. Things get more depraved and excitable, MC5 getting up some dutch courage and bumming Maiden in 1980.
Lewis Stapleton of The Liverpool Echo saw them live and wrote: “Third up are Black Bombain [sic], all the way from Portugal. Their stock in trade is long format space-rock-funk style instrumentals. Competently played but lacking the virtuoso flair that this sort of music really needs; there's only so much guitar, bass and drums can do in these circumstances. Despite the energy and a good turn from the drummer it was overlong and formless.”
We can only hope Lewis gets turned on by the 'Titans' groove and the funk hallucinations stop. If he isn't, he'll especially hate this one.
SIDE D A sustained organ note and electronic glitches give way to a lump-hammer distorted chord and thunderous drums. Cue the coup de grâce; a riff of pure majesty and testicles the size of Wiltshire descends into more squally white-out.
Black Bombaim are both exceedingly trad and ultra-revolutionary. A jam band? Kind of. Just believe in the power of these sounds and the matter of how they fit round your expectations will be an irrelevance.
Posted: Sun 17 June 2012