Electric Wizard
Come my Fanatics… (The Music Cartel)
by Brian Varney
Finally, an English band with balls. I mean, fuck, it’s only been, what, 20 years since Black Sabbath stopped being good? I dunno if there’s a testosterone shortage in England or if the general ’70s (’80s and ’90s as well) English populace’s indifference to such stuff left the pool wide open for the taking, thus allowing a few wise bands (Sabbath, Deep Purple, Uriah Heep, the Groundhogs) unlimited access to the stuff (hence the off-the-chart MANLINESS of their rock), but suffice it to say that there aren’t many great English ROCK bands. Aside from the aforementioned ones, a couple of good punk bands (i.e. the ones that were interested in rocking: Sex Pistols and the Damned) and the mighty Motörhead whose towering specter covered all of the essential space between the two, there ain’t a whole lot that’s good about rock music that’s come from England, y’know? Well, let’s just say the pool’s wide open again and Electric Wizard are reaching in with both fucking hands and scooping the stuff out like somebody called ’em up and said, “Hey, there’s a big mountain of free dope in my backyard, come over and take as much as you want, dude.” ‘Cause there’s really not much more on the Electric Wizard agenda than dope and rock. I don’t wanna compare ’em to Beavis and Butt-head, lest people think this is some kinda joke or that I’m looking at this through the dreaded ’90s ironic “it’s so bad it’s good” kitsch lens (even though the shit is kinda funny). But since I’ve already mentioned Beavis and Butt-head, I’ll go ahead… As with that show’s brilliant moments, this music’s level of fundamental lack of posing allows for shocking blasts of unimpeded insight into whatever good stuff you seek through music (the ultimate high, if you will). There’s no farting around with a lot of other junk (y’know, the stuff they teach you in college), so they get right down to the fucking fundamentals, much like the boys on the couch.
But I don’t want to overplay the dumb thing too much. As dumb and simple-minded as these guys are, there’s a lot of craft in Electric Wizard’s music; if there wasn’t, there’s no way a 10-plus minute song like “Return Trip” would be as captivating as it is. Whether or not these guys are capable of generating and analyzing a cogent thought, they know how to make music drone on and on for awhile without boring you silly. Seriously, I can’t think of another band besides Hawkwind where I can listen to songs this long while staying completely captivated.
So this set compiles the impossibly rare first two Electric Wizard records, records I didn’t know existed until this set arrived. I got into ’em when I got the Man’s Ruin 10″ in the mail, and while I liked it at the time, I had no idea the boys would turn into the demented beast they’ve become. The self-titled first record is the inferior of the two, but it’s interesting to listen to their sound beginning to take shape as they sift through obvious influences like Cathedral and Sleep. Something happened to the boys in the band between that record and the second, Come My Fanatics. Maybe the paint chips they ate as kids finally began to kick in or something, but the sick factor is way amped on the second record (and continues to be so on their latest release, the masterful Supercoven). The guitar sounds like the strings and pickups have been rubbed with raw gastric juice or something and the rhythm section generates a ridiculous amount of floor-rattling, stomach-gurgling low-end rumble. I guess you could call this a bowel-rock album.
Whatever you wanna call it, this music’s power is pretty hard to deny. It’s the perfect accompaniment for ingesting of any number of illegal chemicals, or it’s nice background if you’ve got a lifetime or two you wanna squander. It’s obvious these guys are playing with all of their hearts, and equally obvious that they’ve liquidated most of their brain cells reaching the plateau where the creation of such music is possible, so the least you can do is listen. My own personal reaction is to fall to my knees and appeal to the powers of the universe for a trip to the psychic state from whence they come. My fanaticism knows no bounds – I shall join you at the electric church, and I shall not neglect to bring the three pounds of dope you requested.
[Note to readers: The writer, Brian Varney, is the only person I’ve met who actually measures time by how much or many times one has to play E. Wizard’s Supercoven to get from here to there. Meaning, E. Wizard is so good they annihilate time, pulling you back to the moment before Adam bit the dreaded apple and doomed us all to a life of consciousness… – Craig Regala]
