The Black Angels
Phosphene Dream
Blue Horizon

They really haven’t made many bands like The Black Angels since the 60s, have they? Back when they chased white rabbits, drank electric kool-aid, and said no to Nam, when all sorts of weird, enlightening, conscious-raising shit went down. Unfortunately, being the spring chicken that I am, I’ve had to rely on the likes of Wolfe, Kesey, and HST to tell me about it, and have plugged into the  awesome nonsense of, say, Father Yod or Roky Erickson in order to experience it for myself as best I can. LSD ain’t really en vogue anymore, and John Sinclair’s been free for years, but that hasn’t stopped The Black Angels from droppin’ their third-eye acid fuzz on us like a brand new drug. My mind’s been movin’ like a lava lamp ever since their 2006 debut, Passover, happily trippin’ on the psychedelic, blood-soaked, oft-political, incense and peppermint drone. The Austin band’s latest album, Phosphene Dream, while familiarly drenched in that Grace-Slick-serving-sermon-at-midnight-mass mysticism, is the most rockin’ Black Angels album to date, meaning some of the songs got an unfamiliar, hip swagger to them, like they’re shooting outta the grooves of a cracked 45″ on a Saturday night. A pleasant revelation, natch, one that walks in time with their freak n’ freedom revolution. You ought to be joined up by now.

Check out the video for “Telephone” from Phosphene Dream!