![]() This time I listened again and again without falling asleep, until the sun came up and the birds were dawning their chorus thang, and I was a reborn earthling. Then, we’re off into thee single greatest rush of music since the last Millennium. No way could it possibly sustain that sheerly mystical feeling of that first coupla listens. I put the record on headphones loud as hell. I jumped outta bed and grabbed the thing and took it (still riffing) to the farthest corner of my bathroom and closed the door. I shot up in bed, looked down at this riffing orange toy playing familiar music alone and unprompted. ![]() In the middle of the night, my toy doubleneck (which I used for all the TOO difficult parts of the LAMF album) fell over on its face next to my bed. I fell asleep listening to the album and woke up several times during it, only to fall asleep again overwhelmed and tearful and with a butterfly belly of surging gnawing passion. I felt like the mystery of all music had been boiled up over one Hindu kalpa (8,640,000,000 years of human reckoning) and had then been distilled through this Boredoms album. Heard all seven songs and thought they were all one piece (still don’t know the individual titles). Had the record and didn’t even know what it was called. Didn’t even know what the singer was singing. ![]() First time I heard this album was like a deluge overload euphoria had descended from the highest heavens and whipped me screaming, whirling, teenaged and drooling into my first acid trip/first hard on/first astral projection into a region of unfathomable and untameable NEWNESS. ![]()
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