Maelstrom webzine:
Like a bunch of crazy stoners, these Russians sound as if they were abducted straight from the Sixties or the Seventies, playing that carefree, hippie, semi-psychedelic desert rock n' roll, and they even got a flute, imagine that!
But there's a twist in the plot here! Suddenly, those sun-baked, blissful moments are being covered with sonic grey clouds that render the music gloomy and transport it into the doom dimensions. Groove-laden melancholia and dark sentiments then rule, playing what little game they play in a circular, repetitive, hypnotic manner; and a trance-inducing riffage is constantly accompanied by that goddamn mischievous flute.
Then there are other unorthodox instruments on display, and while doing their thing, the music sounds like some sort of nature-worshiping, tribal song full of ethos and pathos and folklore, Siberian-style.
And just to add to the confusion, the groove-laden, amplifier-worshiping distortion converges with some mighty deep growls and a gentle, female voice; and once again, the hellish, elvish flute is flirting with everybody and everything - and the party is in full gear.
Imagine Affliction's Prodigal Sun or Convulse's Reflections joining forces with Jethro Tull, indivisible and proud, and there you have it: a groovy, stylish, folk-ish and wickedly well done psychedelic doom/death for the toughest stoners out there, rather than to the effeminate, happy, hippie stoner heads.
But there's a twist in the plot here! Suddenly, those sun-baked, blissful moments are being covered with sonic grey clouds that render the music gloomy and transport it into the doom dimensions. Groove-laden melancholia and dark sentiments then rule, playing what little game they play in a circular, repetitive, hypnotic manner; and a trance-inducing riffage is constantly accompanied by that goddamn mischievous flute.
Then there are other unorthodox instruments on display, and while doing their thing, the music sounds like some sort of nature-worshiping, tribal song full of ethos and pathos and folklore, Siberian-style.
And just to add to the confusion, the groove-laden, amplifier-worshiping distortion converges with some mighty deep growls and a gentle, female voice; and once again, the hellish, elvish flute is flirting with everybody and everything - and the party is in full gear.
Imagine Affliction's Prodigal Sun or Convulse's Reflections joining forces with Jethro Tull, indivisible and proud, and there you have it: a groovy, stylish, folk-ish and wickedly well done psychedelic doom/death for the toughest stoners out there, rather than to the effeminate, happy, hippie stoner heads.
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