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Another day, another band that sets the controls for the heart of the sun. SUBARACHNOID SPACE sounds exactly the way you’d think a combo with that moniker would sound: like a sleep-deprived all-seeing eye watching a galaxy implode colorfully on itself whilst the music of the spheres filters through an acid blotter. On Eight Bells, the band’s eighth album (natch), guitars swell and crash against meteor-strewn shores, drums hum like spitshine-new warp engines, the bass throbs the subfrequencies into submission. Bandleader MELYNDA JACKSON plays Galactus to the music’s Silver Surfer, yoking it to her spaceship’s prow, then releasing it better, stronger and more powerful for the experience. She and co-stringer DANIEL OSBORNE must have 30 pedals apiece, yet the cool weirdness rarely gets in the way of the actual tunes. Admittedly, I’m a sucker for psychedelic space rock, so your mileage may vary. But to my ears Eight Bells is a fine example of modern day starstreaked acid rock.
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