Time isn’t constant or concrete. It’s made of color and shade. Time flows, blurs and fades away in dim morning light. Time melts. And The Warlocks are the ecstatic, hazy, foreboding, holy tick tock of time that isn’t anything at all.
For five albums, The Warlocks have lived in between and beyond minutes and hours. Sway to The Warlocks live and loud and songs will drift and envelop each other like fog. Listen to the records and you’ll hear soundtracks to fuzz-freaked, bacchanalian stomps, pre-dawn city prowls, sleeping late with new crushes, and the elation and exhaustion that wash in and recede deep in the wee hours.
The Warlocks new LP The Mirror Explodes speaks and whispers from all of these places. But where the band’s last long player, Heavy Deavy Skull Lover, tweaked time in a icy-cool, white-noise swirl that evoked a decadent lysergic night, The Mirror Explodes is disorientation through a longer lens —pictures of luck, longing, losing, moods and fever dreams scrambled in the haze of near and distant memory.
On the 8 songs of The Mirror Explodes, the band’s signature amalgam of White Light/White Heat attack; space panoramas, fuzz, melancholy, and melody is present and potent. But there is vivid focus too. Throbbing bass lines, distant rolling thunder drums, and zombie rattlesnake shake are a heartbeat of strange, ominous vitality. Guitars howl, slash and bounce like light. Bobby Hecksher’s vocals sound oddly alone and unsettlingly intimate all at once. And just when you think you understand the sum of these sonic elements, they become something else entirely…
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A lady was picking through the frozen turkeys at the grocery store, but couldn't find one big enough for her family. She asked the stock boy, 'Do these turkeys get any bigger?'
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We are a nu-gaze band from Toronto. Please come by and press play on the cassette deck. If you would like a copy of our new album, it can be magically beamed right to your computer.
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Hey!!, come sit down Under the willow tree Rest on this low mound Let the time pass with me.
So here we all are again Back down by the railroud track Don't feel so long since we were here before Same old tents and little more.
More,more each dawn Nowhere to go and hide Nothing to sell or pawn Victims of broken dreams.
Now you gotta learn From what you seen Never were no saints In the American Dream Work all day To make ends meet Then one day Out on the street Can't pay the bills Can't afford the rent End up here In a government tent
Here comes Godot Here comes Godot Here comes Godot Here comes Godot! Help, Help, Help, Help, Help, Help, Help, Help!
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