Blow Smoke with Ancestors' Invisible White EP
Behind the buzz: This exciting new release finds SoCal's reigning kings of heavy psych in a neither lighthearted nor frolicsome mood. Weightier than Tee Pee labelmates Night Horse or the Warlocks, this quintet specializes in a droning doom-metal as gravid as L.A. music gets before sinking through the floor of the Dragonfly, inward bound for China. Addition of Moogmeister Matt Barks isn't the only sonic upgrade deployed by this superb EP, due out June 21.
Today's dope: An allegedly high test indica called Da Bomb. More of a squib, really.
New Goo Revue: The title track opens with an elegant instrumental dirge unwinding over a credibly Frippertronic soundscape before resolving itself into a long and disillusioned sulk that might prompt the inattentive doper to sway side-to-side, folkie-fashion. "Dust" is as shimmering and heat-glazed as the title indicates, rolling through its seven-plus minutes in a Roger Waters fantasia. There is almost no concession to anything au courant or trendy now going in rock music; indeed, one would have reach back to hyperaccomplished, quasiclassical '70s U.K. prog like Egg or Henry Cow for the like. "Epilogue" brings to mind one of the better side-long tracks of the acidhead rock era, uncoiling its 14-minute length in the manner of a jeweled python. Alongside this, the band's 2009 full-length, Of Sound Mind, is a mess of Bachman-Turner Overdrive outtakes.
Psychoactive verdict: Invisible White is Ancestors' most accomplished music yet -- a thing of beauty and joy for almost a whole half-hour.
Afterbuzz: Just in case you feel shorted on this weeks baggie, here's a typically awesome single from Denver's I Am the Dot. Side A is the plangently titled "Last Minute of Eternity," which would've made a nice score for the mass Rapture of humanity Rev. Harold Camping predicted for last Saturday, with the line "Say hello to the black sunrise/Every dream you had has died" delivered with the appropriate tone of solemn mockery. "Inside/Outside" is as trippy as anything under discussion here -- a meditation on time conceived as an exercise in fourth-dimensional Burt Bacharach songcraft that hangs in the air like an endless 1966. Groovy.