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