Pitchfork

Karl Precoda formed Last Days of May in the mid 90s, almost a decade after leaving his former band, the Dream Syndicate. Where the Dream Syndicate specialized in American underground rock via anyone from The Byrds to Neil Young to the Velvet Underground, Last Days of May are defiantly acidic; their exhaustive, instrumental psych-rock jams will vastly disappoint anyone expecting even the slightest concession to his paisley pop past. Anyone ostensibly lining up for full-throttle space noise might be underwhelmed too, by the distracting lack of edge or even direction throughout Inner System Blues, the band's third release, recorded live. Could it be freaking out is harder than it seems?

The most interesting action occurs when Last Days of May inject more than just atmospheric asides into the music: "Rangerland/Bewitched" comes on like the skeletal cousin of Can's "Pinch", replete with insistent James Brown beat on loan, and barely-there low-end, courtesy of Thomas Howard, who seems to have attended the Holger Czukay school of minimalist bass work. At the same time-- despite omnipresent congas-- it isn't terribly exotic, and that's fine as spacing out may not have been the point. Its rhythmic drive keeps the moss off, which is more than I can say for tunes like "Drive, It Said", a monstrously lengthy excursion into uncharted waters most bands purposely steer clear of: A wah-wah pedal and extra reverb too easily decay into unraveled yarn. Twelve minutes in, when it's clear the "climax" was that sort-of head-banging beat accompanied by even more wah and reverb, I wonder 1) why they couldn't arrive there sooner, and 2) if they might've fared better editing these pieces-- a la Can or Miles' In A Silent Way-- into something at once compact, and even more out there.

"Solitary Realizer Vehicle" picks up the mess where "Drive" leaves off, though luckily it drops a semi-massive acid riff a few minutes in. It doesn't take very long for the band to begin another freeform jazz-rock (or is it rock-jazz?) odyssey, but they keep the pulse, which takes some of the murk out of their sound. At one point, Precoda's guitar sounds eerily close to some of Hendrix's spacier concert escapades, without quite the overdriven bravado. Ultimately, Inner System Blues meanders more than it initiates discovery: The music never breaks through to the other side.