Juneau

Space Is Hot
by Nik Rainey

Many an artist has attempted to capture the sounds of the cosmos, from Sun Ra jazzily pining for his Saturnine origins to the universality of any number of Moog-stroking synthenauts for whom the out there is really out there. The virtues are immense but hard to master: space-rock at its finest captures the feeling of weightlessness and sense of the infinite that dissolves all walls, free of constriction and codified modes of thought, and, let’s be honest, gravity has tightened too many sphincters and left too many would-be stratospheresome musicians flailing, Earthbound and gagged. Juneau is one of the exceptions, painting improvisatory instrumental starscapes that head beyond the stratified stratosphere and waltz slowly around the barren reaches of the without like a bone tossed by a Kubrickian apeman clanging against the free-floating satellite of unrequited love. More impressive still is that, though they bear a passing resemblance to the black-to-comm dope-rocket racket of Spacemen 3, Juneau achieve a close approximation of their effects with more straightforward rock instrumental imperatives (like drums, for example) and without letting dronish repetition define their euphoric euphonia. The only problem is the same one that dogs nearly every local band untethered to the major-label mothership: the sound kinda sucks. But perhaps even that falls in line with the band’s name and raison d’etre, coming off at times like a static-besotted transmission from some remote receiving station. However, having heard them with all afterburners flaming in person, this is hardly the sensory depravation tank-like immersion that they’re capable of. Still, it’s one small step for Juneau with the promise of zero-gravity leaps and bounds to come.
(Spooky Tree Records, 16 Allston St., Allston, MA 02134)