With a new album that lasts over an hour including only three tracks, the shortest of which lasts a whopping 19 minutes, Earthless drives the nail of their intentions into the eardrums of their listeners.
The parade of demons promised by the album's title march along slyly welcoming shores where wah-wah reigns supreme over a reverberating populace chanting hypnotic rhythms while a river of deep lava grooves and creeps under the clay feet of the madmen lost in these lands.
"Stoner" comes to mind, but the definition is too limited. "Free" seems more apt to qualify this descent into the underworld where the tortured saw and crush certainties with their eyes closed to give birth to drones gifted with life.
No words here, they have no place. They exist elsewhere, in the interstices left by the instruments on the borders of the Styx. Where the wrecks of Black Sabbath and Amon Düül II continue to wander, black flags with skulls adorned with Kabuki costumes floating on the putrid winds of improvisation.
Three titles like so many lashes, the galley of feelings full to the brim with stowaways called Isaiah Mitchell, Mike Eginton and Mario Rubalcaba.
Three wizards who have been officiating off this planet for two decades already. Three incantatory figures guiding souls through the meanders of Krautrock and Japanese psychedelia. Three reasons to follow this movement that no parade can counter.