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Ziguri – Kölsch/Schickert/Erdenreich

Bureau B

Ziguri - Kölsch/Schickert/ErdenreichThe opener is meaty, elasticised basslines wrapped in kicking drum folds, the guitar caterpillaring plenty of shimmering scenery, traction for a heliumed goblin of vox. A super-tight jigsaw whose balance is temporarily upset by a tempo flick knife into vocals that don’t quite gel until repetition shape-shifts a rescue plan.

“Massa” blows this minor gripe clean away, as sleek lazer lights aero-dine your ears. That excitement of heart-scooped percussives from Dieter Kölsch licking a cathedral of rotary gliss from Günter Schickert, lubricating those beefy slabs of bass Udo Erdenreich is plying, inciting some superb cerebral fireworks. A full-on sensation that charges along, shuddering its dorsal flanks, a subtle humming dropping further honey into the mesmerising mix. “Yoyodyne” is slower, all slinky dripping kettle kinks and marching snatches of bass baked in colourful dunecast sunsets. The vocals slipping the tempo like a glove, words plucked from the brain of Thomas Pynchon — which reminds me, I’ve been putting off reading Gravity’s Rainbow for too long now.

“Bella Hopp” keeps the momentum going with its cartwheeling guitars (Schickert seems to be casting them in multiples). A solid carpet of drums nailing the tempo, as speed-freak vocals pastiche an American Indian “haw, haw,” diverting into a murky noir of a chorus. Sliding lyrics to stage-stealing drums stickle-backing those figure eight shuffles of fret beautifully.

They definitely save the best for last though, as “Goa Constrictør” steals the show in 11 minutes of pure bliss, its pulsing core sounding like I wished Suicides‘ comeback should have: tense, full of nervous energy — the Ziguri trio taking it into Gong “Master Builder” territory with Sufi chanting that could be Daevid Allen Euterpe(ing) away. All the while that rhythmic candy head-drilling a delicious insistence, the odd cymbal kiss releasing an arc of vivid Schickert as the drums square root the equative powers, threading them onto a curve of glistening metallic that leaves me all Oliver Twist-like. More please!!!

-Michael Rodham-Heaps-

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