Seven That Spells - The Man From Dystopia (2007)

Seven That Spells to grupa odjechanych freaków z Chorwacji. Ilość stylistyk w których obracają się jest naprawde ogromna. Właściwie to istna kopalnia najdziwniejszych eksperymentów ornamentyki psychodeliczno - rockowej. Można powiedzieć, że ich muzyka to jedna wielka pieprzona kosmiczno-rockowa improwizacja. W nagraniu przedstawianej płyty udział wziął znany z japońskiej grupy Acid Mothers Temple - Kawabata Makoto. Chłopaki żyją w swego rodzaju komunie. Z dziewczynkami rzecz jasna, co uwidocznione jest praktycznie na każdej płycie. (Skaut z masterfula)

Stjepan Jureković - drums
Lidija Dokuzović - voc
Tvrtko Dujmović- bass
Tsuyama Atsushi - voc
Kawabata Makoto - electric sitar, tambura, hurdy-gurdy
Niko Potocnjak - guitar, synth

There's always a sense of a celebratory spot of bunting hanging in our gaff when a Beta Lactam Ring package rears into view on our door mat, trouble is we have so much fun soaking ourselves in the eclectic and often - it should be said - disturbing sounds of their catalogue that we almost forget to write up the reviews. There you go a moment of honesty never did anyone any harm until of course they chuck you off the mailing list.

The most recent dispatch from the BLRR stable features outing for perennial favourites here - Volcano the Bear, LSD March, Soriah and George and Caplin - though sadly the latter never made it to the parcel though the press release is intact (maybe we could review that) - all of course will be getting the critical once over shortly. However notwithstanding the gems within - and remember there is a VTB release which to momentarily ignore is akin to having an itch you can't scratch - the release that caught us square between the eyes is this little beast from Croatian ensemble Seven that Spells.

One for the psychedelic purists. Those much in love with looping mantras coiled in Arabesque swirls freewheeling upon a tripping odyssey towards mind expanding enlightenment should have these dudes on your cosmic radar and if not should be making a sharpish dash towards the nearest Tibetan travel ticket machine in order to book yourself a place on this volcanic and monolithic 73 minute cerebral cruise liner.

'The men from Dystopia' is an unrelenting primordial shake down feast of scorched freak outs, monastic grandeur, fried fret work sublimely melded into a titanic white hot 5 part firmament of brain mulching slow freak psyche that within reveals in Niko Potocnjak a guitarist cut from the same cloth as his talisman and sole inspirational source Makoto Kawabata of Acid Mothers Temple fame (who incidentally appears here applying some masterful and dare we say unworldly things with an electric sitar and hurdy-gurdy) and of whom it can be said has been sun kissed by the drug induced sonic white out spectre of Hendrix.

'The Men from Dystopia' is essentially one elongated suite divided up into 5 parts not so much with a view to relieving you of the endurance levels needed to tackle it head on but no doubt serving as some kind of concerned health warning fearing that a fair few passengers won't make the return journey.

In terms of texture and delivery its closest peer not withstanding the obvious comparisons to AMT are fellow Beta Lactam psych blues overlords Green Milk from the Planet Orange while in recent memory one only needs dip into the more out there moments of Psychic TV's recent 'Hell is Invisible, Heaven is Her/e' to locate a common ally in terms of venturing.

Symbiotically threaded together each of the five parts exists in its spatial dimension, picking the baton left by its predecessor its shifts ever steadily with finite precision through the intoxicated states of lysergic flux towards of inner Karma reaching critical mass at 'IV' wherein the intensity and density that has so far been steadily gathering mass, form and dimension up to this point suddenly collides into a mammoth out there skull fuck. From the initial chilled out bliss personas of the ceremonial like spooked soft psyche folk chiming overtures of 'I' sumptuously adrift with key washes all the time adding the component ingredients (cosmika florets and chanting recitals delivered by trappist monks on a bad trip) to the swamping brew. 'II' ups the ante ever so gently incorporating a fixed set kraut throw back groove while decorating the spectacle with mirage like swirls. Yet its 'III' that provides the sets centrepiece, a superbly executed riff rampage - fractured and fried, visceral and volatile - it's a true 16 minute wig flipping freaked out fuzz core experience of barrier decimating proportions. Personally though - for me the albums best moment arrives with 'IV' - a frazzled and chaotic cauldron where for once the psyche - tropic rule book is lashed aside in favour of the unravelling, corrupting and corroding dissipating overtures spliced between nose bloodying tensely equipped drone montages scared by moments of rabid sonic assaults - listen a little closer and it sounds like a hallucinogenic highland fling.

'V' naturally brings everything full circle - the come down - unsettling and eerie the moods and textures evaporating and as with dream like states confused and concussed until the calming influence of the monastic chants bring all to a logical closure. Immense stuff - a colossal substance free head trip - the man from Dystopia - he say yeah - oh bloody hell I couldn't resist it okay. (corazine.com)

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