Sunday, November 30, 2014
Enough of the leftovers. I've gorged myself into a turkey-hash and cranberry coma over the course of three days, placing me in perfect position to try something new, fresh, and (as luck would have it) fucking sinister. I don't feature many splits on these Sundays, primarily because so many end up featuring (heads:) one band's best effort and (tails:) another's obligatory toss-off. But pair two left coast stoner-doom titans and you've piqued my interest.
"In ancient Rome, there was a poem... About a dog who had two bones. He picked at one, he licked the other... He went in circles 'til he dropped dead."
Come 2015, STB Records will release a split LP tandem featuring Phoenix's Goya and Seattle's Wounded Giant, certifiably cementing both acts as forces in a riffed landscape of dust and sand. After one spin, you'll struggle to decide which act deserves the first nod toward another listen. It really doesn't matter, so long as you make no haste. I do my best to be cerebral and offer poignant, insightful perspectives on the sounds sent my way. But these three tracks kicked in my teeth and made my hands shake, rendering me damn-near unable to even grip a knob to elevate the decibels.
First consider Goya's fourteen-tick No Place In The Sky, shelling their own weed-doom blitz while staying true to the form evident on last year's crushing 777. This opener immediately drips with hovering fuzz, masking a patient riff-mist and snagging reluctant drums for the ride-along. In hindsight, it's deceptive considering the full-brunt drop of doom ushered in by the succession of relentless blows. As riffs manipulate a canopy of smoke, Jeff Owens' vocal is haunted by its own shadow and stalked by his fractured fret licks. Beyond the midpoint, his guitar cracks what's disheartening and desolate by imposing blisters you'll never let heal. The rhythmic churn never loses steam behind Nick Lose and Chad Moline, slow-rolling toward an acceptance of fate. Short of a few brief, sporadic firings, the ungodly stagger leaves us peeling at our own hot skin, barely seeking sense in this teeming pool. Fourteen minutes? I'd let this one glaze me for fourteen days.
Flip the wax and you'll find Wounded Giant's one-two, led by The Room Of The Torch. Juxtaposing side one as more than a shade quicker, the track is no less imposing. Bathed in hot shit but looking toward a fading sun, these sludge rhythms give way to doom sensibilities. As a ritualistic gathering appears imminent, listeners are quickly pulled back into dragged-knuckle cruises and coated with skin-tingling sustain. Strap in and hold on as we quickly convert to unhinged stoner acceleration. Psychedelia saturates as we dig into a steamy swamp escape that's as deceptive as it is delicious.
Swaying and swinging with concrete fists is Dystheist, the split's epic closing coup. If this giant's wounded, he's hardly fucking bothered by it. Distant hover is merely a harbinger of the settling spook and ethereal pipes brought by Bobby James. Riff tarps wrap and suffocate atop a sticky, malevolent tempo led by Alex Bytnar's punchy charges. This track, boiled down to terms your haze can understand, is an embrace of the negative. Wounded Giant's unmistakable 70's salute remains in their back pocket, but the swirls toward an epic closing storm of exploding light marks a stomp apart from their brilliant Lightning Medicine.
You're wasting your time in search of another split this complete. Goya and Wounded Giant each bark their case as the marquee act. But clearly, both trios commit to embrace the other and peer downhill at the devastation they've collectively scattered behind them. Perhaps these three tracks can finally provide your mom with enough worry to simply leave you alone in the basement rather than investigate that skunky waft. If you've made it this far, she knows she's lost you. STB is only churning 430 of these on wax. I know you're weary, but try acting fast.
Released January 3rd, 2015
Limited vinyl pressing of 430
Die Hard Edition - 80 pieces
Band Only - 100 pieces
OBI Series - 100 pieces
Not-So Standard Edition - 150 pieces
Mastered specifically for vinyl
Exclusive artwork done by David Paul Seymour
And in the meantime...
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
When new bands come along, they’re always compared to acts that came before, whether you want to call it lazy journalism or a helpful way of quickly assigning a sound to a band using an audience’s knowledge of music, therefore letting people make snap judgements to whether or not they want to listen to the band, i’m going to do it here really quickly: Rhin sound like The Melvins if they played a sludgy version of hardcore punk! It’s THAT damn good!!
Hailing from Shepherdstown, West Virginia (USA), Rhin was formed in June ’13, and they’re already about to release their second record, the face pummelling Bastard on Grimoire Records. Made up of members from the bands The Demon Beat, Black Blizzard, Bishops, and Nonhealer, this collective hardcore sludge troupe carry such ferocity that it’s hard to fathom how they don’t just implode after every song. They manage to perfectly contain their anger to wrap around their structured songs like a python chokehold, squeezing out every inch of passion and energy that the shattered bones of your brittle frame is all that remains. Each screeched vocal from Dominic Gianninoto, every fuzz-laden twang of Tucker Riggleman’s (good name) guitar, and every deathly crash of Ben Proudman’s drums leaves such a dirty taste in your mouth that you need to wash after every listen, but it’s glorious, being stripped down to our naturalistic bare essentials of rocking and fucking and rocking some more.
What Rhin manage to do that many other sludge/hardcore (Hardsludge or Sludgcore?) acts lose in amongst there raw playing, is that they keep the song structures at the forefront of the song, not losing themselves in self-indulgent tangents of noise, but remembering that they’re making music, brutal, aggressive, dirty, awesome music. Listen to a song such as the 1,000mph ‘Gravy’, the fuzzed out ‘Ted’s Shed’, or the head-pounding ‘Bull Doze’ and tell me that your life isn’t better, if not a bit dirtier, I know mine is. Embrace the filth! Get Rhin! SLUDGCORRREEE!!!
Sunday, November 23, 2014
This is as much time as I've spent with any one single band in ages. Melbourne's Olmeg consumed a frigid November weekend with their 2012 debut, Slab, only to follow it up by introducing the sophomore epic Primordial Soup. I'd hoped to wrap up a few loose ends at home, but this trio of diggers managed over two hours of distraction that I'd welcome back without hesitation. As a student of the 90's, these nine tracks presented me the makings of a disenchanting trap. What I found was instead a trip marrying my past and my present, an incredibly staggering ambivalence between looking back and facing forward.
That Slab was all I could've wanted, littered with quick, punchy grunge dropped into a bath of fuzz and jangled funk. Riffs, sludge rhythms, meaty choruses, and occasional catharses lulled me into a build toward poignant ascents, steadily swelling behind a slow and cavernous psychedelia drifting into barroom blues and southern fists. Those bloody knuckles bobbed for stones and came up caked, but the trippy mirages stole marquee billing. This band wants to come unhinged, it's clear. What's more evident on their nine-track return, due out December 12th, is the crafted strides these mates have committed to making.
Spacey, smooth, tripped-out... Trans-dimensional hits a gait and becomes all things. Jammy instrumentals immediately showcase the strides the band made in those two years, complete with focused warble and thick-riffed skyshots. The chippy sandiness of Megalomaniac sits low, simmering and dazzling with lo-fi QOTSA stickiness that stares with head-up fuzz deflation under a slow stagger. The Wolves billows with stoner crunch, buoyant without being cartoonish. Olmeg's engine hums and purrs with a tasty viscosity. So here we are, fellas. Lightyears ahead of where we'd expect.
The immediately pensive, somber Nest is distant until meat-riffs fall like boulders. These courses vary from more-than-you-can-chew to whisper-sniff-swipe servings, the main course a gristle sitting long on the tongue. Wash it down in cosmic guitar bursts and rest that sorrow under a blanket of warm stoner fuzz, bro. And that reflection returns with Scolder, Olmeg's swamp-swagger sway that relents to rueful lumbers. Oh, that sad stoner, struggling to find his place between two divergent atmospheres. This is for him.
For all its tip-toeing, though, Primordial Soup lays down some fucking beef. Tilt the landscape and welcome Told You So, the band's return to stoner-sludge groove. Swirls crash with epic gravity, but what's heaviest is the patience the band exercises. Sure, those quiet moments hold a spooky, touching gravity... But the track truly serves as just another showcase of improved craft and expansive, evolving style. Crunching and punching with loose limbs, Olmeg swell in every direction toward a shameless, hard-boiled cosmos. Mettle is melodic and hopeful, steadily plugging and plodding as the best stoner-sludge does. It's grungy and quite patient, breaking into a fuzzy bass isolation. So hey, isn't that just SO, like, 90's?
I don't have enough space, and if you've made it this far into this gushing diatribe, it's fair to ask why you haven't just clicked the links and screened the tracks. There's a LOT here to digest, and every bit holds a fair balance between past, present, and future. Every track from Primordial Soup provides an exercise in pulsing strength, but still manages the sack to hit every corner. These passages display endless evolution and aren't about to shy from the pain that comes with it. With unmatched tonal movement, these nine tracks offer unpredictable shifts that are deceptively uncalculated and unfairly precise. Olmeg break us, fold themselves, and expand our atmosphere. As this band welcomes the dirt, they encapsulate us without apology.
As stated, 12-12-14. Until then...
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Where does the listener go when musical genres feel exhausted with nothing new to explore? Few bands are tempting new territory in Metal, Rock or anything these days. Every year, there’s at least one surprise gem that comes out. An unexpected sound. Something new.
DAMA/LIBRA is the newest work from Joel RL Phelps (Downer Trio, Silkworm) and G. Stuart Dahlquist (Asva, Sunn O))), Goatsnake, and Burning Witch)
"Claw" offers an open-minded sound, closer to classical compositions than modern metal/rock. It’s stylistically far from Phelps or Dahlquist’s previous recordings and more involved in the avant-garde. This whole project is phenomenal. A sort of, demented supergroup for the North West stoner rockers. For half of the album, Phelps sounds like a psychotic minister going through some form of ‘scream’ therapy. But other times, his voice is quite beautiful and remarkably affectionate. "Remember me, remember me..." he chants. It's interesting to wonder if his lyrics are autobiographical and to what he's referring to sometimes. The motifs can be so abstract and feel spontaneously inspired vocally.
Their music flips from nightmarish to dreamscape the way Stravinsky would sound mixed into Mozart’s Symphony No. 29. It all feels like a controlled sonic dream, a soundtrack to the cloudy atmosphere of today. I love the parts that are very 'Twin Peaks', with soothing tremolo bells and airy synthesizer drones. The instrumental segments are the heaviest parts, certain tracks feel industrial, others feel dark ambient and doom-ish. But it all flows as one long piece with a hundred dynamic changes.
I think this is a great collaboration record, a unique collection of personalities working together. And I can’t tell if this was long-term written music, or in-the-studio impromptu performances, but I will say, this DAMA/LIBRA experiment works.
Lee J Diamond at 4:20:00 AM
Monday, November 17, 2014
Personally speaking, I never grew up in the 1970s, hell I wasn’t even born then either, but when I sit back and imagine the haze filled days of experimentation and freedom, it’s usually soundtracked by something very similar to what Limestone Whale effortlessly do; delicate but leading bendy guitars, always tinkering on the edge of destruction but always happy to remain distant to the urge, vocals that require a voice to actually sing, and not simply yell, and a solid percussion of someone who has almost baked all of their brains. This is the Seventies I choose to believe in, I shall fail to be convinced otherwise.
Aside from my culturally influenced assertions, what really matters is that Schwandorf, Germany, have just bellowed out a new, lightly tinged, doom stoner band, with enough caress and power to sooth many a mind. Their self-titled debut EP explores all stoner-heads territory whist being enclosed in the fist of doom’s embrace, highlighted perfectly on the track ‘White Flat’, a glorious slow tempo doom track which almost bursts into moments of serenity. But, it’s the bluesy elements to Limestone Whale’s sound, evident on ‘The Wizard’ and ‘Acid Entrance’, that lead back to those imaginary seventies hazy days, of headphones on, while the record spins 45rpm on the deck, just wanting to remain in the moment for a lifetime.
There’s a definite resurgence in throwback 70’s psychedelia in the scene at the moment, and all that matters now is to be the best at it, and Limestone Whale all well placed on our radars to evolve an album which makes us want to grab a tie-dyed shirt, roll a fat one, and get lost inside our own minds. Peace man!
Sunday, November 16, 2014
I don't feel much like writing this morning. The weather fucking sucks, I just blew a few bills on new tires yesterday, and last night's chocolate stouts have painted me ragged. I needed a pick-me-up; something straight to the point that didn't meander and hover and drop hints. Melbourne's Riff Fist offered the most succinct elixir I could find, slapping me silly with... um... riffs. Six tracks off two releases are rotating in my den as I try to figure out how the fuck this meatiness stayed off my radar for so long.
2013's Fistful Of Riffs is just that. Twenty-four minutes of caffeinated stoner-sludge riffage packed tight under white-knuckle truth. Give it a go. Chase it with this year's For A Few Riffs More, uncorking Master of the Grove as a chaser to Riff Stew. There's no pretense here. If you spent any of the 90's enjoying Paw but found them a tad bleak, this has just enough shine and balls to push you west with no doubts. Hit up these links and get dirty. My hangover's gone and I'm jumping in with both feet.
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
Do you ever get that heavy suffocating feeling, something reminiscent of thick slabs of concrete moulding their dense matter around your lungs, hammering a blackened beat through your veins, bulging your eyes to a rhythmic pattern? Think of that, along with happy emotions, and the dirty grit of Attalla will caress your ears with aural relief.
The Oshkosh, Wisconsin troupe have been kicking the ass of many a underground rock clubs’ clientele for two years now, and the fruits of their labour can be heard in all its glory of their self-released Black Flag meets The Obsessed self-titled debut LP. Covering all the essential areas of life (the track-listing goes ‘Light’, ‘Haze’, Lust’, ‘Thorn’, ‘Veil’, ‘Doom’) the band have created a sound which fans of stoner, metal, sludge, and punk-rock alike will welcome with clenched fists of joy. Vocalist Cody Stieg shares similarities with Scott “Wino” Weinrich, which is not bad thing at all, as we’ve never really heard Wino do something quite as sludgy as this, and perhaps the fact that the music was recorded on Halloween might account for the eerie depths with which the guitars and drums dare to sink as they pile on wave after suffocating wave of dirty rock.
Attalla have the potential in them to create an album of biblical proportions of heaviness and sonic audacity, the only question is whether the world is quite ready for it. Make sure to listen to Attalla to see if you’re made of the right stuff, you know, the thick, dirty stuff. Fists up!
Sunday, November 9, 2014
Through all the fuzz and beneath all the sand, Brant Bjork gives his strongest nod to his punk roots. You'd struggle to find a more impressive synopsis of work than his, from the dusty origins of Kyuss through his Low Desert Punk Band's debut, Black Power Flower. For the better part of three decades, Bjork has ceaselessly crafted innumerable landmark sounds of a species of rock music he helped to create. Outlining the measure of his influence and the magnitude of his contribution to stoner rock would require more than a write-up on a blog.
Heavy Planet recently chewed a little fat with Bjork, touching on his new band of buds, his inner punk, and the status of his various projects. Hell, he even offers an explanation on why some desert folks use meth.
Heavy Planet: Black Power Flower is being released this month. It seems meatier, it's got a different vibe than some of the other stuff you've done. It seems like there's a throwback element to it.
Brant Bjork: Yeah, there's a return on this record, for sure. I've kinda gone back to my primal, more adolescent root as a musician. I think I've full-on returned to the simplicity of my primal love for rock music. Simple and easy sometimes get confused, because it wasn't exactly an easy task. But I really wanted to get away from... sometimes when you play music and make as many records as I have over the years, you start to over-intellectualize something that's really simple and pure and primal. So this is a record to return to a place where it was just, like I said, primal and pure.
HP: About that title, there are a couple different ways to interpret it. What's your take?
BB: It depends. Like you said, there's many ways you can interpret it. It could be literal, it could be metaphorical, it can be symbolical. I like the concept of combining words, just from a wordsmith perspective. Like I said a minute ago, not trying to over-intellectualize what it means. Symbolically, I think it represents consciousness and awareness. In a more literal sense, my biological parents... My mother was a white hippie and my dad was a black power guy. It's literal in that sense, in terms of who Brant Bjork really is at the core of my being, my DNA. Those things combining... My music is biracial because I'm biracial. Throughout my career, I've consistently worked with that the way someone like Phil Lynott would work with it. I hear that in his music with Thin Lizzy. It's constantly a bridging of this gap, of these two bloods, and making sense of it. Also, it's just punk rock, y'know? This is my punk rock record. Punk rock is my root. This is my punk rock band and I wanna just throw shit out there that makes people move around and figure shit out. Push some buttons.
HP: What's the chemistry like between you, Dave, Bubba, and Tony?
BB: The chemistry began before we started playing music. Conceptually, to get back to that beautiful, innocent place after many years of playing music with various people and various situations I've come to accept the fact that it's important to play music with people that are down with each other, they're on the same page as human beings. The chemistry starts there. If you can hang out in a room and have a beer together and laugh and bullshit and have fun, that's going to carry over into the musicianship. So the chemistry begins before the music. And these guys are my friends. I grew up with Tony in the desert, I've known Dave for twenty years, we've been dearest friends. Bubba is a guy I've known for years. He's always been super down-to-earth and cool and I've always been a fan of his guitar playing. So I deliberately assembled a group of guys where there was vibe before we even picked up our instruments.
HP: You've been doing this since you were a kid. You've been writing, performing, recording... What's been most important in your success as a musician?
BB: What's been most important is what's happening right now. I look at this record as a return, kind of a full circle. I also feel it's a record you can only graduate to if you survive and last this long in the business. Therefore it's a real important record for me. I think it's my most important accomplishment because it's the result of many, many years of discovering and learning and exploring. Victories and failures, all that stuff. I feel really excited about it.
HP: You guys were in Australia, Europe, you did some dates out West. How's the new material being received? Around the world and across continents, what's been the response?
BB: Well, this music is live music. It was written and executed live in the studio. It's music to be performed live as much as it is to be listened to on another source as a recording. In all honesty, I was really shocked at how fast people responded to the new material, enthusiastically and almost participated with it. It was kind of shocking, especially since none of these people were familiar with the tracks. We made a point early-on to get onstage and start playing the new material even though the record wasn't coming out yet. Together we decided that we wanted to jump straight into a new trip, The Low Desert Punk Band. Like, "Let's get this punk rock goin'!" And even in Europe it was pretty amazing. You would've thought they'd already heard the record, it was pretty amazing.
HP: You guys taking it out again, anything in the works?
BB: Absolutely. I feel that we haven't even begun to tour to support the record. I feel like we were just exercising a new band, gettin' the band out on the road. Gettin' the live chemistry working, gettin' the fans back in the house and excited about a return to doin' my own thing. We've got new action happening. It's all about that. Now we've got shit on the stove and it's cookin'. I think when the record drops next week, we've already got plans next year to go out and support the record specifically. That'll be another adventure.
HP: You guys comin' out to the Midwest at all?
BB: Yeah, absolutely. I love the Midwest. For me, it's probably the best part of the states in terms of what we're doin' and having people come out and participate. So the plan is definitely to go out and hit the East Coast and the Midwest together at some point.
HP: You're pretty well cemented as a notable pioneer in the stoner rock, desert rock scene, whatever you wanna call it. Where do you see the state of that now in terms of what you're involved with and other bands. What's your take on the whole scene as it stands right now?
BB: That's an interesting question. Really, when I think about it, it's hard to understand the mechanics of the scene when you're kind of in the eye of the storm. So I really don't know. And it might not be for me to even know. I don't fully know what stoner rock is, and in some ways I wonder if I've ever known what it is. Stoner rock, for me, didn't exist when I was comin' up as a musician in what we were doing. For me, I was a stoner and I smoked pot for many reasons. Some of 'em didn't have anything to do with music. But I also loved music and I loved listening to records and going out and seeing my friends' bands play. And when I was at home I would smoke a joint and it was a way for me to get more meditative with a particular record. I would listen to that record deeper and I would hear it in a way that I'd never heard the record before, even if I'd heard the record a hundred times. So I took that into the music I was creating and the records that I was helping to create with Kyuss. That was kind of part of what I was bringing to it. So this whole stoner rock thing has become the name of a genre. But I don't know if these people even smoke pot, do they even care about smokin' weed? Is that even part of it? [laughs.] I don't know what stoner rock really is or means or how deep it goes. And as a scene, it eludes me. And desert rock, that was just something we called ourselves almost half-kidding because we were from the desert. And back then, the desert was a fuckin' trippy place that no one wanted to go to. [laughs.] So it's hard for me to say. In terms of rock music, for me, stoner rock and desert rock is synonymous with non-commercial rock music. I think rock music is really healthy right now. When I travel, I see a genuine excitement in the world right now. People still pick up instruments and get big, loud amplifiers and make loud rock music. I think people are excited about that and on some level they need it. I see a new generation of kids, it's cyclical, man. I think every ten to twenty years there's a whole generation of kids that are discovering it. And with the modernity of what's happening in the world now, kids need something tangible. They need something that pushes them around, they need something that scares them. They need something that they can hold and fear. I think rock music is doing that for a new generation.
HP: It seems you have such a connection with the desert and the Earth. It's strong and transcendent. What's your connection with the desert independent of the music?
BB: I like that you asked that, "independent of music," because that's really where it starts, right? In planetary terms, it's my planet. I come from Planet Desert. It's just my environment, it's my ecosystem, it's my life force. It's big space, time stands still. It's hot weather. Seasons are really shot. It's hot, it's cold, it's not complicated. The terrain is rough and it's mean. It's pretty intense. The beauty is equal. And it's a meditative place. For brain-trippers like myself, it really caters to us and is kind to us. It forces meditation on some level, it mellows you out. The drug of the desert is methamphetamine. I think it's because people freak out on the meditation out here. [laughs.] They don't wanna be sedated by the environment, so they do a stimulant so they can get up and make shit happen in their lives. I never participated in it, but I can totally understand why people do. That's my environment, that's just where I come from. Then you throw in Southern California culture; skateboarding, punk rock, BMX, Motocross, and all these things that we grew up with. A peacocking, if you will, of Southern California, the big Hispanic, Mexican, Chicano culture and low-riding. All that stuff, it's all out here too. So you just wrap that up, give a kid a joint and a Jimi Hendrix record and all of a sudden it starts happening.
HP: You're so proficient, you're always doing something. Whether it's Kyuss, Fu Manchu, your solo stuff, - the Bros, - the Operators, and now the Low Desert Punk Band. This Jacuzzi project, is it gonna see daylight anytime soon?
BB: Daylight, yes. Anytime soon, I don't know. It's all about time management for me, especially now that I'm married and have kids. So I've gotta really work on my time management, which is something I was lucky enough to have discovered early on, that it was important for me to execute what I do. And let's face it, there's only so much time in the day, only so many days in the week. I've gotta pick my battles. Jacuzzi is one of my most talked-about records and I've never even put it out, which is kind of interesting to me. I'm kind of enjoying it, though, because it's almost forcing me to not rush to put it out because I'm kind of letting this thing build. But really it's the result of getting back together with John and Nick and putting Kyuss back together, which was obviously consuming all my time. And right before that adventure took off was when I was tying up the loose ends of that session. So it kind of just sat on the shelf. I had no formal way of putting the record out back then anyway. No design, I didn't have a plan. It was a record that I just started recording, it was a knee-jerk while I was in the studio. But I really dig the record and I would like to get it out. I've got super-solid management these days and pretty much need to sit down with them and design an appropriate plan to put it out. That'll probably just involve timing. We'll see.
HP: I could watch Sabbia over and over. I could watch it without the sound, I could listen to the sound without the visual. It was such a cool project. Do you ever see yourself doing anything like that again in the future?
BB: Yeah, I would love to return to that situation. Back then, that was a combination of people having the right tools to do something at the right time to pursue it. I haven't been lucky enough to have those planets align, but I'm sure glad when they did align back in the day we were able to take notice of it and motivate, create, and release. It was a lot of fun and it was exactly what we aimed to do. As far as doing it again, I would love to. Next to music, my other passion is film and soundtracks and movies in general. I would love to get deeper into that. Actually, maybe even work on a full movie with dialog, screenplay, music. That'd be the ultimate.
HP: Peace was incredible. The record made a statement and seemed to establish you guys (Vista Chino) as a cornerstone act. Then Nick comes out and says "it's over." Is it?
BB: [laughs.] I don't know. Nothing's really over, is it? We could say the same thing about the whole Kyuss adventure, Kyuss Lives! and all that. If there was any one thing that we had all kind of discovered and established simultaneously, it's that nothing is over. So having said that, I look at Vista Chino as just another word describing this adventure that started a long time ago. And it'll probably just keep rolling down the road. But metaphorically, I see Vista Chino as a car that we parked for a while because we have to go do other things.
HP: Finally, be honest; what's one question you hate being asked in an interview?
BB: [laughs.] That's a funny question. I really hate it when people ask me what my favorite song or favorite record is that I've done. It's like asking "What's your favorite kid? Your son or your daughter?" It just doesn't make sense. I understand. I don't lose sleep over it because not everyone makes records and not everyone writes and records songs. But for me, it's a question that's just such a waste of time because I couldn't possibly tell you. I don't have a favorite, y'know?
I guess I don't either, man. Black Power Flower is available in the U.S. on 11/18.