In Mara's Glove
6majik9
More primitive dirt psych explorations from the masters of the australian outback. Majik is the fully assembled ensemble encoming almost-all the of the musicyourmindwilllove you collective. Space shanty rhythms collide with tribal folk dirges to create true cosmic wreckage. Michael Donnelly and co are on a mission to find the perfect trip. Their cathartic releases are spewed straight from the earth’s core. This is the aural transfixing of melted rock and the hyperspace freeway. A total psychedelic journey. Welcome to fucking oz.Stephen Clover: "Though I've met them, I've no real idea who they are or which planet they came from. I've seen them live — twice, in fact, in the same weekend — and I've never heard or seen anything like it; never borne witness to such musical lunacy. I've also never heard anything contemporary that reminds me more of Can. But where, in the case of the kraut masters, you might expect — and generally will receive — precision and economy of gesture and deed, "Majik" (the 6 and 9 are silent, dig) can happily provide the opposite. It's as if they's some kinda barely-competent wedding band formed by of Amon Düül I and who turn up late, fucked-up, and proceed to attempt Can covers, helped by guest appearances from Cheech and Chong. Live they were epic, frightening, and hilarious — a pummeling multi-pronged and seemingly-indefatigable rhythmic attack overlaid with complex sonics, and "poetry" provided by an intoxicated vocalist lunging around and ranting and making enthusiastic gestures with a theremin (something along the lines of a leery, bedenimed Jim Morrison, or a nil-talent Hawkwind). On record they conjure up repeated reference to the same headiness, but in the prolificity of cuts here (the albums number 5 and 7 tracks, respectively) they feel piecemeal and prematurely truncated. I'd prefer to relive those wasted Sydney nights via one prolonged, ferocious mixdown."