On a handful of solo discs guitarist and current Philadelphia resident Chris Forsyth has been establishing his presence on the scene for roughly the last half decade. With Intensity Ghost, he steps forward as the leader of a working unit, the Solar Motel Band. Their LP contains five outstanding tracks of instrumental psych-rock executed sans nonsense, and it’s freshly available from the No Quarter label.
Individuals and groups were most assuredly making abstract, mind-altering music long prior to the 1960s intersection of heightened (self-)consciousness, rapidly expanding rock styles and prime chemicals; for one example please tilt an ear toward the strange tangle of sound that is “Fiorassio,” a 1930 78 of Efisio Melis on the launeddas, a Sardinian woodwind instrument also known as the triple clarinet or the triple pipe (said piece can be heard on the first volume of Yazoo Records’ The Secret Museum of Mankind).
But it’s hard to deny that when the subject of psychedelia is broached, most folks including this writer immediately think of the 1960s psych-rock explosion. And this isn’t off-target, since so much of it hit racks during the period, and not just in the USA and Great Britain; like punk rock, it really was a global phenomenon.
But roll back the clock thirty years and psychedelia was pretty out of vogue, at least on a mainstream level. On the margins as part of the Paisley Underground an ample amount of psych-aligned stuff was touched by Neil Young and The Byrds (we’ll leave Farfisa-driven retro-garage out of this); yes, there was Brit neo psychedelia and the twisted drug-punk of the Butthole Surfers, but a more appropriate specimen pertaining to this review would be The Meat Puppets.
In a manner not unlike how Television established a link between first wave punk and the impulse to stretch out and jam, The Meat Puppets drove home the compatibility of hardcore’s extremity with the searching qualities of The Grateful Dead. This was no small achievement, and one that could breed hostility, confusion and apathy; by the latter portion of the ‘80s, an influx of ‘60s nostalgia had taken hold in the mainstream, but in the era’s orthodox punk terms there was hardly anything less welcome than the sounds of Haight-Ashbury.
Of course, it was only a matter of time before the circumstances shifted; hardcore ran out of creative gas, neo-psych gave way to dream pop and shoegaze, Spacemen 3, Bevis Frond, and the Black Sun Ensemble grew followings, and as early as 1990 I can recall engaging in a dorm room discussion clouded with weed smoke over the shared traits of Sonic Youth and the Dead.
As the ‘90s progressed, even more psych sprouted up; for a few instances, there’s the fairly pop-inclined Elephant 6 stable, Spiritualized, Brian Jonestown Massacre, The Flaming Lips, and the heavier activities of Bardo Pond. Meanwhile, the jam band scene led by Phish and Widespread Panic kicked into high gear.
All of the above is an attempted synopsis and not a complete picture; in any given year since its emergence psych-rock can certainly be found, but as this young century took shape it had become a major component in the indie sphere, specifically playing roles in Freak Folk and the assemblage of instigators known as the New Weird America, both happenings adjoined to experimentalism and noisemaking in general; it seems correct to describe the music of Chris Forsyth as evolving from that scenario.
For starters, he was in Peeesseye, a Brooklyn-based trio that across the aughts specialized in rigorous and loose avant-improv-noise. They produced a slew of releases before splitting up in 2010 (copies of the limited edition Sci Fi Death Mask, a document of their final show in Antwerp issued earlier this year, are still to be had), and hence the members spread out, Forsyth relocating to Philly.
Since then he’s gathered notice as a solo artist; his 2011 Paranoid Cat placed him in the upper echelon of ‘60s-descended/contempo situated string burners as ‘12’s truly solo Kenzo Deluxe deepened his rep as one man in command of his axe. But it was last year’s Solar Motel that served to intensify the spotlight on Forsyth’s steadily increasing abilities (it ranked on a few best lists, including one hosted by those enduring sophisticates at The New Yorker).
Unsurprisingly, Forsyth toured for the album, drafting for the occasion guitarist Paul Sukeena (of the enticingly named Spacin’), drummer Steven Urgo (formerly of the War on Drugs), and bassist Peter Kerlin. The shows went so swimmingly that he christened his cohorts the Solar Motel Band. Late in ’13 they stepped into the studio; Intensity Ghost is the result.
While ‘09’s Dreams, Paranoid Cat, and Solar Motel were all made with the assistance of others (including trumpeter Nate Wooley and synth man Jeff Zeigler), Intensity Ghost remains unique in his post-Peeesseye discography, as stated a full-fledged group effort (a live LP by the band came out this past April for Record Store Day), it touches on the Dead and then cuts a diligent path through psych-rock’s history, picking up Television and Sonic Youth along the way to land amidst such esteemed company as his label mates Cian Nugent & the Cosmos; this is Forsyth’s debut for No Quarter.
The promo text differentiates Intensity Ghost from Solar Motel in part by song length, with much of what’s here wielding fairly concise durations, though opener “The Ballad of Freer Hollow 1” still breaks the 11 minute mark. However, the adept, logical momentum assists the track’s span in registering as rather trim.
As Forsyth and Sukeena intertwine and soar they conjure thoughts of Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir, Tom Verlaine and Richard Lloyd, and Thurston Moore and Lee Ranaldo, three exceptional teams with a collected range helping to insure Intensity Ghost avoids the aura of tribute. On the other hand, Forsyth’s inspirations are undisguised; that he took lessons from Lloyd is illuminated by his playing, though he never connects like a disciple.
Together with the previous paragraph’s big six, elements of non-crap Quicksilver Messenger Service and prime-Paul Butterfield can be detected. Furthermore, an underpinning of drone should easily appeal to fans of Krautrock and fellow Philadelphians Bardo Pond. The gist is heavy but not abrasive, in fact often quite pretty (notably in the leads), as the non-vocal nature is very welcome.
If lacking syllables, Intensity Ghost ultimately wants for nothing. Indeed, superfluous voices often lessened or ruined otherwise acceptable psych motions, particularly when the utterances were bluesy or soulful. To be accurate, overlapping captured conversations do commence “Yellow Square,” but they quickly subside underneath a sturdy rhythm as the guitars lock in and Shawn Hansen’s synth/keyboard and Kerlin’s bass throb lends a twist of ‘70s rock commercialism. By the end, both guitarists are burning, with the track offering some very fine slide work.
Side two’s opener “I Ain’t Waiting” begins in a meditative zone, though it wastes no time in delving into a Marquee Moon-like setting and raising it to euphoric heights. Intensity Ghost’s shortest number, it’s also the spot where it becomes obvious the Solar Motel Band’s billing is no mere generosity on Forsyth’s part. From there the uptempo gallop of the title cut’s first two minutes reinforces the congruence with Sonic Youth’s rocking side.
“Intensity Ghost” does segue into a slower, blues-tinged heavy psych-rock groove, though the speedier punkish flavor returns to deliver symmetry and set-up the more languid spaciousness of “Paris Song.” The aforementioned promo text cites the Germanic outfit Popul Vuh and here the comparison is most apparent, especially the glistening notes sprinkled through the midsection.
Gradually rising in forcefulness and movement, it nods with nuance to Television and The Velvet Underground, a similarity enhanced by Urgo’s Mo Tucker-ish tom drumming. “Paris Song” closes Intensity Ghost not with a predictable display of power, but thoughtfully, a gesture amplifying the group’s relevance. Not neo or retro or post anything, Chris Forsyth & the Solar Motel Band simply excel at contemporary psychedelic rock. Hopefully their days as a collective have just begun.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A
