Just like the fucking Lord of the Rings trilogy (either book or movie, both of ’em enthrall me), the musical progression of Bevis Frond albums are an enthralling and magical odyssey. You’re not condescended to or preached at, you’re invited along as a fellow traveler on a pretty bizarre odyssey. It’s a fried journey, baby! Long hair and heart-melting choruses. I was talking to a friend about Bevis Frond just last night, and he said it was like geeky psychedelia, I thought that was great, but then I wanted to one-up him so I said, “yeah kinda, but also like Dinosaur Jr. learning Syd Barrett’s back catalog.” Regardless, the Bevis Frond Experience is a diehard freak scene. Yow. Diamond sharp pop is tossed around like dusty Palantirs. And that’s not all…
Four-tracking across a bejeweled universe with fire-breathing distortion guitars, baby. I love it already. But then you probably knew that from my rabid reviews of Miasma and Inner Marshland, don’t you? It’s just fucking fascinating, as a virtue of this reissue series, to hear an artist develop so quickly, all by himself, using the bare minimum tools of “rock” and recording — to the point where you’re like, damn, this guy is one of the ONES and next thing you know, you’ve given yourself a Jimi Hendrix perm and have been wearing a homemade Bevis Frond shirt (puff paint and chain mail) for two weeks straight with no respite. You’d be fucked if this music wasn’t the key to the universe.
Rubric Records: http://www.rubricrecords.com