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Psychotic but never disturbed,
This review is from: Psycho-Sonic (Audio CD)
The traditional music journo line of yesteryear; nothing existed in the 60's except Dylan, Velvet Underground, Ig and hippies doodling prog rock. The real and only scene was soul.
Right about soul but the rest was pure laziness. The Cramps resurrected the long dormant Sonics for modern consumption. The 60's blasted youngsters out of childhood for a few years before catapulting them into the heat and humidity of Nam. During these brief years they ensured they lived the max. Although tales of Nam were sanitised the encroachment of time entailed having a blast. Returnees too shocked to twang the wood; fun evaporated in the humidity becoming PTSD.
The Sonics blasted out teenagerdom in frenzied two minute screams of lust, delivered with the dirtiest guitar sound ever committed to gasping rasping feral vocals. The pent up fury of childhood restriction marked the gap between before the ball and chain of adulthood restricted vision. Pouring out as a beserker frenzy whilst Little Richard leered into the souls of the cosmos.
Two albums of panting, screaming, sweating rock and roll on bouncing creaking bed springs. The Sonics transformed the axe, from being gently plucked to being buckled into twisted shapes and postions only previously seen in brown paper bags. Demarcating the pop vanilla world of the 50's and the Sutaristic times of the 60's. "Do you love me" was screamed rather than crooned. "Have love will travel" demarcated the end of small town life as the travelling salesman dealt the aces. "Night time is the right time," not for cups of Hot Chocolate. "Witch" an ode to the power of women. "Louie Louie" one that fired an arrow into the art of the Ig.
Years later no one caught the sexual frenzy of loins in lust of this sweaty collection. Angrier, more political, surreal performers have struted as bantams across the stage. Romantic lusting performers have shredded the garments of the post teen world. The godfathers of the Ig did it with thirst.
The paean to rat poison, the teenage stimulant reperformed by the Cramps brought the outre world of the 60's to the 70's and onwards, forever enshrined in collective memories.
It wasn't all 60's rock doodling as the Cramps and Norton Recs attest. Look under the paving stone, it is not just a windswept beach with cold blue azure seas but a wild rock and roll non stop excess baggage all night long paaaaaarty.