German group Popul Vuh created a style of rock that seems to be an anachronism. Their music harkens back to a spirituality, a meditation, that seemed lost after the Sixties abused Eastern mysticism for it's own end. Perhaps what makes Popul Vuh's music such a rejuvenation is that it is not exploitative. Instead it is a meeting of Eastern and Western spirituality, owing it's languid tone as much to Christian mysticism as Hindu and Buddhist mysticism. The atmosphere of each piece blends the ascetic tendencies of the East with the opulent majesty of the West. The group allows equal room for both aspects to flourish, bridging the two in their metaphysical connection with nature. The result is a hypnotizing beauty. The angelic sound of the album is completely detached from any era or nation or culture. Instead it becomes a universal hymn dedicated to the most profound meditations, an arcane testament to the universes vast mysteries and mysticisms. Every facet of the album seems to convey this. It is as detached from the fads of the time as one can be, abandoning almost all electronics (electronics being the hallmark of German rock). It disregards the stark aesthetics of German expressionism which categorized almost all Krautrock groups of the time. The universality of the composition is further augmented by it's disregard for conventional rhythm. Each piece, as literally as possible, becomes timeless. The delicate mantras and gentile instrumental play are stretched out to infinity and then compressed back down to a digestible format of rock and classical music. Hosianna Manta will finds itself among the great sacred and spiritual music of the time, alongside such visionaries as John Coltrane and Arvo Part.
The Monks were likely the first proto-punk group of all time. Though short-lived they created one of the earliest examples in rock music of experimentation with droning and cacophony. Their pieces were dissections of popular culture, as filtered through the eye of a demented revolutionary. The dementia is quite prominent on this album but the question is not "how demented are these people?" but rather "how did society produce such demented people?" The viscous semi-parodies on this album attack all facets of society, attacking a culture which allows war, misogyny, apathy, corruption, addiction and oppression to occur. All of this is done with the vitriol of punk music, only a decade ahead of its time. As the group spews military chants against all these wrongs, percussive crashes and clattering noise signifies assaults each of these targets with a relentless anger. The stand-outs of the album include I Hate You, one of the most percussive tracks, as thumping drums, guitar and organ rattle the bones of the listener. Monk Time places furious chants over hideous droning and monstrous cacophony. Shut Up launches vicious amounts of vitriol, in some vague parody of those who try to stifle free speech. The rough growl is almost cringe worthy in how sinister it sounds. Complication sees the group making a more direct attack on the oppressive authorities who create war. These are the same sorts of mantras that ended the Vietnam War. Ultimately it's the Monks unwavering sense of justice that turns their blind rage into a focused weapon to oppose the evils of society.
While many psychedelic groups of the Sixties had some claim on the term "experimental music", few were as experimental The Red Crayola, later known as The Red Krayola. They applied a new form of psychedelic cacophony to their music, where the chaos was not an expression of violence but instead the vision of an evolving dreamscape. They fully abandoned lucidity and transformed each piece into a hazy symphony of noise and metaphysical combustions of emotion. In-between each individual piece of this album, rests a what the band has christened a "free-form freakout." These wild freak outs best display the psychedelic transformation of The Red Crayola. The pieces are simultaneously spectral and wildly kinetic. Each piece is a skeleton barely held together by the thin wire of a rhythm, while explosions and tornadoes whirl around it. The first piece, Hurricane Fighter Plane begins with such explosions, only these detonations do not destroy; they create. The swirling noise takes the form of a genesis, shortly before a steady universal pulse emerges, setting the tone of the whole album. The second piece Transparent Radiation introduces a folk-rock element into the mix. Mayo Thompson recites the delirious mantras over the aching backbone of a rustic beauty. The third track, War Sucks, boosts the violence of the album to it's peak. The music thrashes back and forth in a spasm, as if it wants to regain consciousness. The fury reaches such heights that it`s direction becomes uncontrollable and can only be spewed at vague entities and ruinous ideals. It culminates in such a ferocious clash that it seems to be attempting to awaken an apathetic deity. Pink Stainless Tail introduces a persistent drive, only it's been twisted beyond recognition. The vibe is reminiscent of a wild animal, albeit one that is being tamed. The title track unveils a penchant for true avant-garde music. It uses sound to paint a surreal, abstract painting, similar in aesthetic to the works of Jackson Pollock. It blurs the line between noise music and ambient. It becomes paradox of moods, calm but harsh, deranged but subdued. The final piece, Formal Reflection Enduring Doubt, is a mediation on the catharsis of the whole experience. It is the eye of storm, a place of quiet surrounded by chaos. As the piece finally fades out the parable is completed.
The full scope of Captain Beefheart's music is unimaginable. His demented genius is so skewed and manic as to be almost completely incomprehensible. Perhaps the only real snapshot of what the Cap was doing is the following quote by the great rock critic Lester Bangs: "Captain Beefheart is the most important musician to rise in the Sixties, far more significant and far-reaching than the Beatles, who only made pretty collages with material from the public domain, when you get right down to it; as important, as I said, for all music as Ornette Coleman was for jazz ten years ago and Charlie Parker 15 years before that, as important as Leadbelly was for the blues Cap teethed on. His music is a harbinger of tomorrow, but his messages are universal and warm as the hearth of the America we once dreamed of. That's a combination that's hard to beat." The music of Captain Beefheart is a demented deconstruction and reconstruction of virtually all contemporary styles, ranging from blues to jazz to rock to the avant-garde. Trout Mask Replica defines his art. Short blasts of insane crooning permeate the album, fully showcasing his revolutionary style of twisting frenzies and surreal Dadaist mantras. This revolution defies any conventions to the point of completely redefining the mental state of the schizophrenics and psychotics. It is, of course, his vocals which serve as the cornerstone of this effect. His growl blends the melancholy of the bluesmen before him, the twitching insanity of a mental ward and the primitive roar of the cavemen. This violent hurricane is situated in the middle of an impenetrable vortex of sound categorized by the blend of rock's hard edged noise, the intense rhythms of jazz and the ugly humanity of blues. It's superficial to discuss the components of his music however when the effect is what defines his art. His work is simultaneously hideous and mesmerizing, a natural disaster of sounds and moods. Beneath all this though, his circus freak exterior and his anguished calls of wild animals, there is buried an intimately human dissection of our varied phobias and delusions. He becomes less of a musician and instead becomes a tour guide through emotional war zones,a mad scientist carving monstrosities out of humanity and above all a shaman for the dejected and destructive. As a consequence of Beefheart's unwavering disregard for societal custom and tradition, he became a messiah for a generation who desperately wanted to break free. His music became a catalyst for the left-behinds and the discarded, who would go on begin a revolution that would later be known as "punk." His genesis of creativity virtually inspired all rebellion in rock music. This is ultimately his badge of honour and why his music belongs in the annals of rock's history and music as a whole.
