Spaceage (Black Widow)
This ought to squeegee off your third eye quite nicely if that's the medicine you're shopping for. ST-37's latest is a disturbingly lilting morass of psyched-out drone on drone that's liable to give you a contact high if you sit too close to the speakers. They may wear their influences on their sleeves, but damn, those are some pretty weird sleeves. "Heather Catherine Tallchief," a love letter to a Native American armored car heistress, sets the stage at more than a few degrees off kilter. At the other end of the spectrum, "Night of Heaven" closes up shop by sucking you into a swirling, digitally delayed vacuum for now and forever. Krautrock mavens will be happy to hear an impressive take of Can's "Vitamin C," not to mention loving renditions of Amon Duul's "Deutsch Nepal," and Hawkwind's "Orgone Accumulator." The flys in this space-age ointment are ST's takes on Chrome's muddy fist-pumper, "March of the Chrome Police," and the Hates' Texpunk classic, "No Talk in the 80s." Spill a little cheap beer on yourself and it's just like being there. Taken as a whole, Spaceage is a field day for the freak streak that links punks to hippies through superior sonic social engineering.
3 Stars -- Greg Beets