At times beautiful and otherworldly, at times neo-psychedelic pop rock drivel, Astral Park have moments that reach further than most unsigned bands would dare.
The rumors are true (except for the part about the goldfish, fur-lined gloves, bowling shoes, and a device known as “The Helmet”): Lollipop is going quarterly.
Not every song is all-out speed-kills punk filled with cartwheeling guitar riffs and harmonies stacked like mattresses in a furniture warehouse, but enough are.
Amidst the clanging and clutter of black/death/doom/industrial/ambient/darkwave music, one figure stands alone. His name, as far as most of us know, is Mortiis.
Whoracle speeds through desolate landscapes, stops at a rest area and cavorts in the bushes, then jams the high-octane metal monster back into overdrive again.
A greatest hits record, only more along the lines of “Say, Peter, give us what you’ve got, regardless of style, and we’ll call it the last Hypocrisy record.”