Caspar Brötzmann - Mute Massaker

There is nothing particularly "avant garde" or "groundbreaking" about the onslaught of drone projects spearheaded by the likes of SUCK O)))-- clever marketing there; somehow leaning your guitar against an amp for an hour and a half equates to "doom metal" to the hopelessly gullible. I must admit, forming a tribute band to Dylan Carlson's Earth is charmingly amusing-- but it yields about as much musical merit as a band devoted solely to covering John Lennon's "One Minute of Silence" (Greg & Steve: No need to thank me for the idea-- you can have it free of charge). Caspar Brötzmann, on the other hand, is a completely different animal.

Hailing from Berlin, Brötzmann comes from impeccable stock-- his father was legendary sax-honkin' jazz deconstructionist, Peter Brötzmann, whose vital LP, "Machine Gun" as well as his work with Sonny Sharrock in Last Exit, should be prominently displayed in your collection. Thus, it's no surprise that Caspar is a virtuoso of the highest order-- he, however, chose the guitar as his weapon of choice. Taking his cue from Norman Westberg's skull-crushing guit-mauling on the early Swans LP's, Brötzmann takes the humble six-string into uncharted vistas never imagined or possible in the hands of bedroom dronesters. Each excursion ("song" doesn't seem like the proper term) begins as a formless smattering of lightly-strummed guitar arpeggios, that, over time, morph into True Teutonic Noise Terror. Hendrix as re-imagined by Philip K. Dick? In the ballpark, but still sadly lacking.

The vocals are essentially an afterthought-- an opportunity to further punctuate the stop/start arrangements and monolithic riffing. You feel you're an uninvited guest at an atavistic ritual -- Robert Dammig's tribal yet precise drumming triggers memories you may or may not have actually experienced. That, with Brötzmann's variety of tonal flavors layered one upon the other, makes for a sometimes exhausting listen, but an adventure well worth revisiting if you allow yourself to completely succumb to it. Much like great sex, this music provides an outlet to make yourself disappear.

Wallowing available in the comments.