The Best Album of the Year By a Band That Broke Up After They Released It
I took on four albums this year that, barring any reunions down the road, were their respective bands last albums. These particular bands, for their own reasons, decided to call it day, and, believe it or not, I’m actually not that torn up about it. You see, I subscribe the the three-and-out theory, which simply means that I think most bands do their best work on their first three albums and should stop making music after that. Obviously some bands blow this theory apart, but most of them don’t, so it is with the utmost respect that I salute these bands for bowing out at the right time…and on a high note, which they all have done.
Of the four, The Kings of Frog Island left us with a dark and gloomy masterpiece, III, that almost makes me wish they weren’t leaving. The album always had an eerie air about it, but its somber reflections on death take on a whole new meaning now, and the mesmerizing psych-rock of many of the albums songs foreshadow the fall of a kingdom due to the death of its kings. And for that, III is the best album of the year by a band that broke up after they released it.
We also have to say goodbye to Dirty Sweet (I’m really gonna miss that beard), who made a huge fan out of me with their second and last album, American Spiritual, Dragontears, who dropped their third and final (or at least it’s supposed to be) album Turn On Tune In Fuck Off!! on us (looks like it’s back to Baby Woodrose for our friend Lorenzo), and Josiah (that’s two of Mat Bethancourt’s many lives), who signed off with Procession. All awesome albums.
BXI, better read as Boris + Ian, is a seemingly odd collaboration between Japanese experimental/stoner/metal/drone/doom giants, Boris, and everyone’s favourite spiritual tambourine shaker (when he’s not wearing a track suit and pretending to be Jim Morrison, that is), Ian Astbury. Personally though, I was stoked when the news first dropped about this hook-up because it seemed to me that throwing a huge stack of noise behind the salty ol’ shaman might actually resurrect his inner love child. I think it’s done just that. The four-song EP kicks off with “Teeth and Claws” and sure enough, Boris’ slow, deep, melodious rhythm goads Astbury’s voice into prophetic incantations about love, illumination, renewal, and salvation. Then Boris drops a brutally heavy, attacking riff on “We Are Witches” as Astbury grows larger at the pulpit, casting an army of one thousand ravens into the night. It ends, quite fittingly, with “Magickal Child,” the all-encompassing comedown, a sweetly distorted lysergic ballad full of atmospheric soul, but not before the procession is interrupted for Boris’ Astbury-less cover of The Cult’s “Rain,” which is a stand-out here thanks to its truly remarkable psychedelic pop vibe and guitarist Wata’s ghostly, porcelain voice. The power of BXI is mighty, brothers and sisters. Let it compel you.
As you might be able to glean from the album’s title and simple black cover, this is Josiah’s swan song, and as such it kicks off with the title track, a real slow cooker with a dopey swagger, like they’re taking that last, glorious walk out of the Holy Halls of Smoke into the fading, waiting horizon. Of course, that’s exactly what the UK trio is doing after 10 years of dedicated stoner rock service, but not intent to linger like a bunch of lazy losers, they punch it hard on “Broken Doll” and “Thirteen Scene” with the kind of groove n’ roll that ought to leave a deep, lasting impression, like getting punched in the chest by a sasquatch. Then it’s a return to theme with the next two songs, “Dying Day” and “Dead Forever,” and it really hits home that these mere mortal men are Gods when it comes to laying down boogie-fried, witchy, 70s riffs, and it sure is a shame it has to stop. They wrap up the rest of the album with a handful of killer live tracks recorded in Sweden in ’07, including “Looking at the Mountain,” “Time to Kill,” “Silas Brainchild,” “I Can’t Seem to Find It” (all from 2007′s No Time), and “Malpaso” (from 2000′s Out of the First Rays and 2002′s Josiah). Singer/guitarist Mat Bethancourt will no doubt continue on with Cherry Choke and Kings of Frog Island, and I can only believe that bassist/vocalist Sie Beasley and drummer Keith Beacom will turn out all right too, if they haven’t already. Play this one loud, brothers and sisters. So long, Josiah.
Of the four, The Kings of Frog Island left us with a dark and gloomy masterpiece, III, that almost makes me wish they weren’t leaving. The album always had an eerie air about it, but its somber reflections on death take on a whole new meaning now, and the mesmerizing psych-rock of many of the albums songs foreshadow the fall of a kingdom due to the death of its kings. And for that, III is the best album of the year by a band that broke up after they released it.
BXI
Josiah