| Ah, the urban wilderness that is LA! The wild smog in | | | | slap-dash deconstructionism are commendable, after |
| the wild air settles all over you like a fine coating of | | | | standing in the sweat and cigarette drenched club for |
| pancake makeup applied to a nude model. You stroll | | | | a few hours, the joke wore thin. It began at times to |
| through this thick atmosphere and feel the desperation | | | | feel like a test of will. The atmosphere in The Smell |
| and faded glory assault your senses. Crumbled and | | | | contributed to this by acting like an unhealthy sauna. It |
| stained sidewalks and curbs seem half real beneath | | | | was the reverse of every positive feeling one could |
| your feet. Whole blocks of dirty and ratty tents stuffed | | | | have in a space. The thickness of the air filled with |
| with people driven half mad or all the way mad by | | | | human sweat and bad breath and cigarette smoke |
| drugs and no food and illness and inner demons. | | | | and vague industrial smells and of course, urine was |
| Mexican transvestites preen past the gauzy green | | | | inescapable.Better were the sets of Ruins solo and the |
| glow of the neon lights in the window of the botanica. | | | | great grand finale of Acid Mothers Temple pile driving it |
| As the sunlight fades a new city rises from these ruins. | | | | home. The Ruins set was a master work of intense |
| This is the city of other senses. This is the city of smell. | | | | drumming. While playing along with a sampler and |
| The city of human urine and car exhaust and heat | | | | guest bassist Yoshida somehow channeled the sound |
| bleeding out of old stone walls. This is the city of touch. | | | | of several drummers playing furiously all at once. The |
| The cracked and callused hand of a homeless man as | | | | beauty and devastation of the songs, filled with manic |
| he shakes you hand waiting for his moment to start | | | | energy and wild swerves of tempo was inspiring. Best |
| the hustle for change. This is the city of sound. The | | | | of all however was the massive cathartic, |
| sound of Ranchera and Mexican dance music blatting | | | | freak-power lift off of Acid Mothers Temple . It's hard |
| at full volume. The sound of desperate shouts and | | | | to describe the massive push of sound pressure |
| garbled screams coming from unknown directions. This | | | | created by AMT live. They seem to literally strangle |
| city keeps you on your toes. It was into this city that | | | | the music out of thin air and then ride this throbbing |
| myself and a few pal ventured last Saturday night to | | | | monster for all it is worth. The spontaneous and |
| check out the spectacle, the phenomena, and the | | | | chance filled collides with pure daring and intent to |
| outright surreal indecency of the Acid Mothers | | | | create hypnotic magick. AMT is one of the best live |
| Temple's "New Japanese Music Festival".To call this a | | | | acts going and it would behoove you to drive, fly, crawl |
| "festival" requires that one's ability to visualize or | | | | on bloody stumps, skip, or roll to wherever they are |
| conceptualize is deeply rooted in a Marx Brothers | | | | playing and dig it.This wild trip to LA didn't end with the |
| aesthetic. Perhaps it even requires something beyond | | | | last collapsing chords of AMT though. From there our |
| The Marx Brothers. A bit of 3 Stooges mixed together | | | | San Diego foursome (the impossibly tall and handsome |
| with Monty Python and the Firesign Theatre all soaked | | | | Philsy, his lovely pixie-booted wife Yuko and "The Two |
| in Ayhuasca and shot up your nose by an Amazonian | | | | High School Girls" Eric and I) and some other pals |
| shaman. That might approach it. Now that you've | | | | (wise acre, music magician, actor and all purpose freak |
| rearranged your perspective you're ready to call this | | | | Brucey and sweetheart of the rodeo and dog-bar |
| event a FESTIVAL! It consisted of several | | | | lover extraordinaire Helveta) scampered off to one of |
| permutations of 3 of the ever expanding Acid Mother's | | | | those LA ex-Rummy/Barfly, now taken over by |
| Temple lineup. In this case that would include, | | | | hipsters, bars called, "Footsies". As to what happened |
| Kawabata Makoto, Yoshida Tatsuya and Tsuyama | | | | here perhaps the less said the better! Let's just say |
| Atsushi. Each assembly of these same three people | | | | that tequila and Tabasco is a lovely way to go and |
| would get up and play for between 10-20 minutes, then | | | | that watching large gothic girl dig cell phones out of |
| they would dash off backstage to take a quick smoke | | | | their cleavage to show you pictures of themselves |
| break and run back on to "become" the next | | | | hung-over in a taxi is not. Really what this night was |
| group.Musically there was an entire gamut to run. | | | | about was connection and freedom. It's a blessing to |
| There was a healthy dose of beautiful and damaged | | | | be with great friends laughing and riffing on time |
| Gregorian drone chanting. This was surrounded by | | | | present and past. It's a blessing to get out of your |
| contact microphone noise sessions of pant zippers | | | | head once in awhile. It's a blessing to see the variety of |
| and scissors. There were longish riffs on various | | | | human experience. And finally it's a blessing to hear the |
| "famous" and not so "famous" songs by Deep Purple, | | | | pure caterwaul and inspired free-form lunacy of Acid |
| Led Zeppelin and Miles Davis. These were delivered in | | | | Mothers Temple no matter what the line up, smell or |
| a wacky, hand-made Captain Beefheart tone that, to | | | | cost to mind and body. |
| me, was a bit off putting. While the sentiments of | | | | |