Pitchfork

How much is too much? This is a question that may never have entered Acid Mothers Temple leader Kawabata Makoto's head at any point during his 25-year recording career. Ryan Schreiber made a joke earlier this week that metal was the new Japanese psychedelia, and as trends go, there are some odd similarities in their holds on indie sub-cultures-- however, while listening to AMT, it occurs to me that no other genres were required if getting heavy was the objective. More than almost any other band on the planet, Kawabata's unit consistently delivers the most over-the-top, blunt-edge psyche-thrash humanly possible. It is the "most", in every sense of the word.

Recently, Acid Mothers have stepped beyond their hairy boundaries to try their hands at other grooves: last year's 41st Century Splendid Man LP incorporated brutal prog touches courtesy of Ruins' drummer Tatsuya Yoshida; In C found them covering minimalist Terry Riley and turning it down a notch in service of the holy drone; the three-disc AMT Family compilation featured a little bit of everything, including some hippie-fied acoustic folk. Never one to be pigeonholed, Kawabata's aim with Electric Heavyland seems to have been, "Fuck all that, I want to BURN YOUR HOUSE DOWN." I, for one, think he means it.

From the get go, it's apparent this release is going to fall squarely in line with Acid Mothers' chaotic debut. Warped vocals and sound effects emerge from silence, swirling like backwards UFOs on "Atomic Rotary Grinding God/Quicksilver Machine Head" (the world's most accurate title) only to crash without warning into air-raid guitar screams, hyper-dub bass and critical engorgement of the drums. Forget the "song", this is a jam of the nose-rape variety, with noise-levels approaching Merzbow territory. For this number alone, AMT devour the Japanese psyche legacy-- swallowing it whole and regurgitating a thousand decibels of indecency. In the middle, they bring it down for the reappearance of the alien vocals, but then, just as quickly, launch a new jam, cosmically informed by Blue Cheer, the MC5 and Keiji Haino. And it doesn't stop there.

"Loved and Confused" wastes no time via vocals or sound effects, and drops the apocalyptic super-rock from the start. This would be close to another Kawabata project, Musica Transonic (with Yoshida and jam-kingpin Asahito Nanjo) with the repetitive riffing and overloaded (but not necessarily anarchic) mix. What distinguishes it is AMT's signature massive reverb and tunneling effects: this jam could've existed 30 years ago but it took modern-day overkill to approach tripped-up nirvana. Too much of a good thing? Is that possible?

If you make it to "Phantom of Galactic Magnum" (world's second most accurate title), congrats: you're doing almost as well as the guys in the band. Opening with the unmistakable bubbles of bliss and just a wee bit of droning synth, the tune begins as not so much a jam, but a spin-cycle of cosmic despair. White noise and what sound like the drastically altered vocals from the first tune get thrown around all over the place, and listening on headphones is more than disorientating. Suddenly, my world explodes as the band pounces on the joint with some hell-blues, laced with sci-fi laser transmissions. Jesus H. Fuck, this is loud. There comes a point when heavy jamming and pure noise meet, and that point is tearing shit up at this very moment.

After Electric Heavyland, I'm going to need some rehab, so let me leave you with this quick thought: there are a lot of bands who would strut their freakishness by all manner of devices. Some of them adopt a crazy image or pose (exhibit A: Mortiis' nose); others do strange things on stage (defecating in front of your fans doesn't count as heavy). Acid Mothers Temple need none of that because they play the real bad stuff on a daily basis. Pick this up for reference, and while you're at it, get some tranquilizers. You'll need them.