A corollary to some of the grits’n’grease doom bands from the DC area, although the recording is a bit tentative and it’s less “Southern” and more psychedelic.
Self-indulgent, non-linear, impossible to grasp, shapeshifting, and more of an expressionistic exercise than any kind of shared trip with the listener.
Razors, KMFDM, oiled guns, deranged ringmasters, Burt Bacharach. Which of these doesn’t belong? Trick question – they all belong, if you’re Abby Travis.
There’s no need for this unless you want to collect every unworthy scrap of sonic poop Tool’s Justin Chancellor hasn’t yet been able to track down and destroy.
3rd Root sing about being “saved” in quiet whispers (sometimes bursting into screams) driven by Latin percussive undertones, not unlike P.O.D. or Sepultura.
Sounds like Star Trek warble or classical, there’s nice ’80s-style retro kitch and drum’n’bass jauntiness with all sorts of “Ave Maria”-isms and the like.