Labelling music as ‘psychedelic’ is about as useful as labelling it as ‘progressive’. Both are wildly subjective terms, and both are frequently deployed when defining Omar Rodríguez-López’s extensive catalogue. I’d like to see a handy Venn diagram illustrating where those two genres intersect, although, given the complexity, an extensive family tree like the one Jack Black showed his students in School of Rock might prove a more useful visual. But to the point, if the definition of psychedelic can be agreed on as the liberal use of guitar distortion and effects during lengthy, meandering solos of all instrumental varieties and the tendency for its fans to proselytise complementing the music with mind-expanding substances, then Mantra Hiroshima is definitively psychedelic.
Although it was released in 2010, it hearkens back to his earliest solo work where he not only produced but also performed on most of the instruments. And knowing his propensity to allow music to marinate in his extensive vault for years before release, this may very well be the case, although the personnel might suggest otherwise. On bass, there’s Juan Alderete de la Peña with his golden thread-like bass; I want to award him the late, great Phil Hartman’s sobriquet “Glue” for his near-magic abilities to seamlessly bring it all together. Finally, on drums is the powerhouse Zach Hill, who appeared on 2009’s Cryptomnesia and whose presence ensures Mantra Hiroshima is a full-on rock explosion.
And yes, there is a good deal of shred involved, which I’m suitably smitten with, as per my wont, but I’m also enamoured with the airy layers of noodle and playful improvisation that exude pure joy. The track list mixes short and ultra-short segues that set up the mood and provide smooth transitions into the lengthier pieces. “Acerca de la Vida” is a 20-second teaser of thick beats and trippy guitar that leads into “On the First Look”. Clearly I’m shred-focussed by nature and temperament, but I’m also really taken with the shivery synths. A later segue track “Reason and Understanding” links the uncompromising intensity of “Los Tres “Yo’s” (which honestly is something of an endurance test) with a funky blast of potentially improvised funbos, making me question yet again why I can’t get on with jazz, especially since I really enjoy “Hope”, a busy track that is heavy on the jazzy synths.
The delicious slow burn of “El Oyente” opens with a hint of menace: keys slicked with a jazz-aligned ‘70s groove slipping around gentle repetitive guitar ever increasing in intensity. The old (albeit stupid and wrong) adage about boiling frogs comes to mind in how it gradually progresses from soft and languid to dense and full-on. It’s not not-shred; it’s somewhere between shred and noodling, solidly anchored with some beautiful bass from Juan, who just may be some kind of wizard. It’s the perfect length, with enough time to layer a crisp, harmonious foundation and then dismantle it before it overstays its welcome.
There is always the moment on an exceptional ORL instrumental album that, to me, anchors the whole piece and becomes something akin to its raison d’être. “El Hacer” has it all from the start, an intro that sashays into the space full of louche insouciance. The two-minute mark is the kind of ORL solo that I could happily live out the rest of my days lost in, and should I ever find myself in the fabled Comatorium, it would form part of the soundtrack. Some of the tracks suffer from a bit too much repetition, but there is enough pulsing across soft half-breaks to vary the texture, while always returning to a joyous rock rampage. And just when you think Zach Hill can’t continue without his arms falling off, it flows into a soft outro that smokes a fag and drifts off into satisfied slumber.
“Sobre la Resurrección”, the final and longest track, does test my patience with its crinkly texture and effects that shriek and scratch. There’s also a protracted portion of what sounds like a sulky guitar string twanging a one-note interruption that goes on for way too long, like an impatient child tugging their parent’s sleeve demanding attention, and it becomes stand-off waiting for the child to either wear themselves out or get distracted by something shiny (in this case Zach Hill doing his Animal impression). But once the first half is endured, it does return to some semblance of control.
It’s hard not to think of Mantra Hiroshima as part of a duology with Cryptomnesia, simplifying its dense kaleidoscope of blended textures and instruments without compressing the intensity. A large part of that is, for an album with very little delegation, it’s hard to deny that Mantra Hiroshima is ultimately a Zach Hill joint: I came for the shred, but I stayed for the balls-out drumming. Thanks to the awful convenience of Spotify, I finally got around to listening to Hella and can happily report that it hits in the same way this record does.
*YouTube is dicking me around so I can’t embed :/
Track listing
Acerca de la Vida
On the First Look
El Oyente
Mastering Death
Los Tres “Yo’s”
Reason and Understanding
El Hacer
Hope
Sobre la Resurrección
