Hellhorn

Hellhorn yet again answer the question of "what is jazz?” with "who gives a fuck?” Proudly recorded on an "ancient camcorder,” cloth drums and tin cymbals rise out of the bad tech like some reverb gated nightmare with reeds, guitars, Theremins, organs and bass oozing out of the speakers like they were locked in a closet with too many old clothes. Audio geeks will have coronaries as they are so far into the gunk that it really sounds amazing; like those bad recordings of Ayler that sounded like the band were fighting their way out of purgatory. In spite (or because) of this the music itself has remarkable integrity and structure. It’s free jazz at its hairiest, with references to Beefheart’s most excessive flip outs, redolent with slide guitars, overblown reeds and primitive electronics. The drums at times sound like Sunny Murray at his wispiest and everybody is really listening to each other, with the responses being both focused and unwavering. Excessive? You bet! Worth the effort to find? Fuckin’ A!