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