"Light the Fires"

by Octopi Mills

This album opens in the ritual style, with the drone and guttural chant, and the shaking and whistling of hawkish things like musical whirligigs, and there is some good howling therein; in this sense, one is initiated into something unusual in the usual music sense and format...

But to the outright wooded shaman and cunningman, it's just another wild night in the cool of the cove, and we must see where we are being taken, and by whom or what..I am brought to the sensation of donning animal, that's not pure enough...going werewolf naked, and running through overgrowth, and I am stone cold sober, and indeed hawk like in my own discernment, presently...this is real music, you will understand, damn you..

"Caller of spirits", as the "song" is called, has the authentic feel of ceremony in analog whether it is or not, and seems like it could be used to call up every dog in the locale..The somber music comes forth by brass or gong, and string windings and the fair use of these instruments is employed here, not for profit, but in an honourable way, and with good penmanship this seems to be in place, and the vocals are strangers, bloating in "WindEye" like the piping of embossed bullfrogs in bogs. As the strange high pitched ambiance of the next song takes you to a whole other place (in my case armed with a black powder rifle for some time atop a chocolate ass or mule through the western prairie mist in a age a little after the cowboy era  where at dawn biscuits are served at a dusky breakfast inn) you start to realize the power of good, original music again. By the time "Rise and Shine" dwindles, there I am... lying on the tender grass and watching the stars stream in a light shower whilst my ass grazes and is against the purple skyline. It is here the darkness becomes a lightly, chilly affair, and one can sense the serpents crawling forth from their underways. Hence, night is to be respected, and dreams are rich on such a hillside. I am still somewhat in this mood, like a good nature documentary might provide, and the next song softly blows through the grasses, blowing in travelling seeds and spores, and the trail is all. The vocals spit like the crackling of a range fire at times, and one almost gets the fear.

Things get ugly by the fourth installment, as if the one had ingested some hallucinogen on the trail, somehow. The same elements as before are still there, and they have turned more dark and dooming-they are used as if extensions of these artists. I hallucinate a cook with me at the fire, making percussion on brass pans and with spoons, and note this is a noble use employed.Music is now like astral handsaws- western country sprawls before me, shamanistic and wild; coyotes and night birds- soft howlings through the winds....

Hope you brought a slicker, city boy, because it starts raining and there are wolves all around, by the sounds of's alright though, they're using shakers and performing some ceremony..There is a wheel that can crush us all, partner, can't you feel it? It's called Earth, or might be governed by something else, perhaps...Can't you see? "WE ARE DOOMED!" I scream in laughter to the cook and point to the lights of the far away town...Indeed.

This is a long release, like great movements, but worth it and it takes you somewhere and can change your head like a drug; I could go on all night...certainly one of the releases of the year to be-these men are real artists and I wanted them treated as such....So, go and quit your factory jobs to enter the wilderness and light the fires, my friends.