A lender might say, “The loan is the cake; the down payment, the icing.”
What we’re looking at here is equal parts icing and cake. Layers and layers of brick red cake, each layer an inch, together six feet tall. The cliffs are cut by smooth cool icing. With red velvet binoculars from behind citrine beaded curtains, I watch the waves lap against the shore of Smith Island.
Ah, a breeze…a draft from standing too close to the bass drum. Another sunny day, a scorcher, a hot aux mic. Another morning, the big morning, in “When I Come To,” where consciouness is simple, summed up in a few lines
When I come to / Oh God / Wake up
The cake rotates in a glass display case. The palm mural that covers the back wall bends when viewed through this glass. I swear I saw the sugar bead twinkle somewhere near the organ and the headstock. I’m not sure which one was above or below the other, the organ in orbit or the fat and happy guitar.
Doilies, magnetic filings, peach fuzz and magma decorate the edges of the sound. Enough decoration to intrigue. Enough repetition to trigger trance. Repetition, repetition, the indulgence of psychedelia tempered by repetition and rhythm. “Expanding on a musical tradition rather than pretending to be creating something new,” says Marcos Garcia of Here Lies Man.
Pre-order Here Lies Man at RidingEasy Records.