Limerent Objects

Пікірлер

@youngbeard 9 күн бұрын

A lot like my last shroom trip!

@curtislovecraft2389 10 ай бұрын

I was there infact I can see myself ..

@larslarsen1444 3 жыл бұрын

It's so good they are going to make it illegal

@neilcampbell9634 4 жыл бұрын

AshNavs Live Report #1. A horrible pub in Kirkstall, sometime late in the 20th Century. No idea why we've picked this room to put on some jazz-fusion crap. No idea why we've booked jazz-fusion crap. No idea. But as support, we've enticed the mysterious Ashtray Navigations out of their Stoke homelands. Phil Todd and guest-star Joincey begin to play, hunched over their minimal rickety gear, shy lad style. Phil pulls plaintive clusters from his chord organ, while Joincey coaxes his guitar with a couple of small magnets, producing one of the most heavenly sounds I ever heard. They keep at it for a good long while, simultaneously tentative and majestic. I am floating a little above the ground. It is utterly beautiful. The sound reaches an impasse. Phil and Joincey look at each other purposefully and stomp on some distortion pedals. All hell breaks loose. It sounds horrible, abject and disjointed. They keep at this second song for a while too, and it never gels, only grates further. Quick finish, bemused applause, embarrassed shuffling, silence. Incredible. Beyond bathos. Heaven and Hell. Yin and Yang. Life and Death. Follow that, jazz-fusion! AshNavs Live Report #2. An anarchist social club, central Leeds, second decade of the 21st Century. The band have temporarily expanded to a quartet, with Phil joined by Mel O'Dubhslaine, Daria Ramone and Pete Cann. The band look completely demented, serious heavy misfit vibe. They begin. Mel holds a synth pulse down. Daria locks onto a scrappy garage riff and doesn't let go. Phil solos deliriously, hideously rockist in full-blown Carlos Santana drag. Pete scrapes and smashes the flimsy casings of old computers and assorted urban detritus. The sound perfectly matches the look of the band: totally wrong, ill-matched, just plain WEIRD. The mix is spannered, Daria's guitar sounding like it's coming from a transistor radio in my inside jacket pocket, Pete's ugly scraping and rattling refusing to interact with any of the other elements. It sounds horrible, abject and disjointed. They keep at it. Five minutes in and my brain is turned inside-out. The music now sounds wildly exciting, majestic, PERFECT. The ugly metallic scrape and unbalanced mix are now the gateway to untold pleasures. I am floating a little above the ground. It is utterly beautiful. And it only gets better when they REALLY start to lose it towards the end, throwing out the steady pulse and all locking into a primal space chord. I think Phil is drooling. They all look ravishingly beautiful by the end too, transformed. Incredible gig. I nearly cried. What the hell is Phil Todd thinking? Who on earth knows? He's the boss shitkicker, the cosmic explorer. I'm forever surprised and humbled by the music he comes up with. It's broken and human and has planetary dimensions. I'll never get my head around it.