NAU NUA
NAU
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From this initial metallurgical industry, we fall into the electronic age curiously under the title Dub what, perhaps because the whistles which are intermittently heard wrapping up their first deeply melodic line. That song has apparently some reggae light, but soon we discover an almost lysergic loop feeling. More sluggish in the rate is the track Liqor, more clearly alluding to the origins of dub reggae. The sun makes its way across all those sounds wrapping the album's first words clothed in a good recurring melody. Taking an alcohol bath again, their dub origins are definitely manifested in Liqordub, asking for an energetic feedback. Their best achieved tune comes with a baroque basement in Rub-a-dub-anthem, melodically rhythmic. Fly to the moon takes us back to the daily darkness and leave us ready for the second part with a Boogie dub production in which they play and recreate all they‟ve already showed. The second part, No border, gets very dark. The guitar that serves us their Space Rodeo distresses us as a Kenneth Anger film, and High Tone quickly show themselves strong in the word and rhythm. The atmosphere becomes a dream sequence in Bastard, but it's a wonderful chiaroscuro. Then, eastern dyes and accelerated rhythms just pausing to dream in the back way home. And we follow their particular path of silk caressing sound fabrics of the most evocative. Propal is simply inspiring and serves as a disconcerting prelude to the mighty Uncontrolable flesh, although its carnal reference seems to me too remote due to its electronic sounds. Clearly, it doesn‟t fit, and less when it talks about chaos from a scorecard. But it is undeniable its suggestive sound. Ollie Bible seems less exciting, without ruling out that this was the initial intention. And we got the 7th assault with a really exultant High Tone, displaying all their charms. It‟s simply vigorous. In the end, they serve their Altered states and we are far, far away from our daily life experience that is finally all we have. Come back with more, please. Text by Juan Carlos Romero Photos by JiF courtesy of High Tone