You.
You like the music.
You like the noise.
You like it raw.
You like it experimental.
You like it with well done distortion.
You like it with layers of instrumental bewilderment.
You like it to sound like some sort of apocalyptic blissful sonic destruction.
You like it to move you, to provoke you, to make you want to explode- but not become exasperated.
You like your music to take you down-and then rocket launch you into space like a canon filled with memories in shards of glass and emotional shrapnel.
You like your music to take you on a mental journey like that which can be induced by psychedelics.
You want a neo-psychadelic freakout, perhaps.
You definitely want it to rock your face off....
maybe like Acid Mother Temple and Lightning Bolt.
(Oh yes. Please.)
You will like Ben Armstrong, Drew St. Ivany and Jeff Conaway.
Heck, you might even fall in love with them, or their Brooklyn-based trio The Psychic Paramount, rather.
Yeah I think you will at least develop a healthy crush.
You should...listen.
Yes.
You should open your mind to them; unravel and be submissive when unwrapping the plastic armor... pulling out the circular mirror...sliding it in and underneath laser beams that will unleash the pyschadelic rock beast that is THE PSYCHIC PARAMOUNT upon you.
Actually, you don't even have to unwrap anything right now.
It's right here, baby.
Go ahead.
Touch the > button.
(if you are in an office setting, you may want to lower the volume-ALTHOUGH it is meant to be played at high decibels)
This is sonic masochism.
Guitar, bass and drum violence- but in the most loving of ways.
It is you on fire.
It is music on fire.
It warms you up, cradles and pummels you over and over and over again without being angry, or hardcore.
It is just by charging you. Pushing the boundaries. Being loud. Being electric.
Being able to expand and blow your mind with its riffed-up avant-AWESOMENESS.
You will like.
You like awesomeness, don't ya?
I do.
I REALLY do.
I can't stop listening.
You like the music.
You like the noise.
You like it raw.
You like it experimental.
You like it with well done distortion.
You like it with layers of instrumental bewilderment.
You like it to sound like some sort of apocalyptic blissful sonic destruction.
You like it to move you, to provoke you, to make you want to explode- but not become exasperated.
You like your music to take you down-and then rocket launch you into space like a canon filled with memories in shards of glass and emotional shrapnel.
You like your music to take you on a mental journey like that which can be induced by psychedelics.
You want a neo-psychadelic freakout, perhaps.
You definitely want it to rock your face off....
maybe like Acid Mother Temple and Lightning Bolt.
(Oh yes. Please.)
You will like Ben Armstrong, Drew St. Ivany and Jeff Conaway.
Heck, you might even fall in love with them, or their Brooklyn-based trio The Psychic Paramount, rather.
Yeah I think you will at least develop a healthy crush.
You should...listen.
Yes.
You should open your mind to them; unravel and be submissive when unwrapping the plastic armor... pulling out the circular mirror...sliding it in and underneath laser beams that will unleash the pyschadelic rock beast that is THE PSYCHIC PARAMOUNT upon you.
Actually, you don't even have to unwrap anything right now.
It's right here, baby.
Go ahead.
Touch the > button.
(if you are in an office setting, you may want to lower the volume-ALTHOUGH it is meant to be played at high decibels)
This is sonic masochism.
Guitar, bass and drum violence- but in the most loving of ways.
It is you on fire.
It is music on fire.
It warms you up, cradles and pummels you over and over and over again without being angry, or hardcore.
It is just by charging you. Pushing the boundaries. Being loud. Being electric.
Being able to expand and blow your mind with its riffed-up avant-AWESOMENESS.
You will like.
You like awesomeness, don't ya?
I do.
I REALLY do.
I can't stop listening.
It is one motivating mother funker.
So go on now, press the button again.
I just did.
