(Their own, possibly/probably fabricated) Legend has it that GOAT – an enigmatic musical collective from a tiny snow-bound village in the far north of Sweden, Korpilombolo has it’s heritage steeped in the practices of imported voodoo worship; and that this current incarnation, are simply this generations current vessel of a psychedelic musical practise that harks back for many ages before them.
What if, though, you were Swedish and then you mixed Black Sabbath, Can and Funkadelic together? It’d be brilliant right? Well, having been listening to “World Music” by GOAT, I can affirm this assertion as totally true and correct. It’s weird as it sounds and all the more wonderful for it. Electric guitars squall like demons and gods in battle while African rhythms propel the frenzy into some crazed hedonism. By the time the coupling of Goatman followed by Goathead came to a screeching false-stop-segue into campfire acoustic folk guitar I already found myself half naked covered in war paint mixed with the blood of three sacrificial virgins. It wasn’t even nine o’clock in the morning yet.
The ritualistic sex / dancing continues through the funk’d tribal wah-wah of Disco Fever and my cat really does look concerned by this stage – you should see what shit goes down at my place by the time Let It Bleed slinks through the stereo speakers; as the saxophone beckons, there’d be some who’d condemn these acts as un-natural and against all things good and pure in the world – and while, I can agree with the latter half of that assertion; as I hold the still-pumping heart ripped from my own bloodied chest aloft and sqeal-along like a banshee to this shit, I’m here to tell to it feels good. So damned good. Run To Your Mama indeed.
Goatlord acts like a wonderful come-down before segueing seamlessly into the gentle rocking keyboard-led epilogue of Det Som Aldrig Forandras which, in a stoke of wonderful genius, itself then morphs back into an arrangement of the first track Diarabi – so you could, if you wanted – return the album to start the whole ritual over again. But perhaps I better have a shower first.
RATING : FREAKIN’ AWESOME
I have always struggled with a numerical scale; it feels so finite and arbitrary.
So the CHEESE ON TOAST scale looks a little something like this :
FREAKIN’ AWESOME / JUST AWESOME / REALLY GREAT / GREAT / GOOD / PRETTY COOL / NOT BAD / COULD BE BETTER / PRETTY BAD, ACTUALLY / NOT RECOMMENDED FOR EARS
Thanks to my friend Andrew Halford (ex Mothers of Darkness) for this record-tip off!