Album Review: Ride Into the Sun-Ride Into the Sun

ImageDo you not love it when you hear a piece of music that simultaneously makes your eyes pop out, your tongue loll back in your mouth, and your nose bleed, all through sheer musical prowess? You may think that’s a rhetorical question, but after listening to Ride Into the Sun, you will know the true feeling of wilting under the power of pyschedlica. Sound intimidating? You ain’t heard nothing yet. (Please, for the sake of the review, read that last sentence in Clint Eastwood’s voice)

Anyway, it’s pretty obvious that Ride Into The Sun, the Radelaide (I refuse to refer to Radelaide by it’s proper geographical name) four piece are borrowing heavily from their fellow psch masters The Black Angels and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. Get over it, they both have the word Black as a prefix. AH! Satanic Rockers! AH! Shut up and just listen to Ride Into the Sun’s awesome music. Droning riffs-powerful, sludgy, mucky; just the way any pysch man/woman worth their salt likes it. Organ sounds fondle with equal kindness and piercing masochism. The bass lines and gypsy tambourine intertwine in such a seductive way, it’s like the snaking rhythms of the world’s most psychedelic temptress. Sure, the band might borrow, but doesn’t that apply to most bands? At least they’re taking something established, pushing it to its limits, and richly enduring the sound, bathing it in a genuine love and presenting it with cinematic power. DAMN! This shit just gives me shivers thinking about how great Ride Into the Sun are. No wonder they were handpicked by The Black Angels to go to Texas (YEEHAW!) and play on their personally curated festival ‘Austin Pysch Fest’. Personally, I think the band have more or less reached the pinnacle of what can be considered genius. Once you got The Black Angels respect, where can you go from there?

The opening to this self-titled mini-LP might just be the best thing the band has written and produced. ‘Hunt Like Wolves’ is a prickly, furtive and paranoid track, steadily jamming along at a mild pace, before zooming into lopsided explosions of fuzzy freakout. The band show off their complex skill, constantly pulling back before pushing forward, holding their cards to their chest for nearly the whole track, before flipping off everyone at the poker table and letting loose with ear splitting squeals of guitar. Also, the bass on this track was drudged up from the bottom of a black lagoon. It’s fucking horrifying.

Now, although the rest of the mini-LP never reaches the gargantuan heights set by ‘Hunt Like Wolves’, the rest of that shit is skin-shreddinly good. There’s the jangle lust of ‘Lost At Sea (A Love Song)’, followed by Native American guitar clashing, ‘These Are the Ones Who Shoot’. Following the theme of the Wild West, it’s ‘Gun Song’, which starts surprisingly safe and quaint. But ho, behold, Ride Into the Sun are devilish tricksters they are. Boom, a mind-melting bullet of wavering treble haze is fired once, twice, ¬†three times…you’re dead. Onto ‘Hero’, the only song on this album with commercial as fuck lyrics. Don’t take that to be insulting though; the chorus of ‘I’ll be your hero’ delivered between intermittent stomp riffs and tom smacks, is a heavy injection of Flinstones pysch. Despite being something Miley Cyrus or Taylor Swift would fart out, when Ride Into the Sun take it, they mould it into a damn cool thing to witness. Finally, the Brian Jonestown Massacre make an appearance as an an influence on the psych-pop of ‘Too Cold’. Sun pokes through the stormy clouds the rest of the album have gathered, and burst through with unrepentant energy. Newcombe 4eva sistah!

Listening to this album, I feel like the squirrel ¬†in this video, standing on the side line as the bear raps some dope as shit. I’m just sitting there, saying shit like ‘Class, straight classic’, ‘AHHHHH, blazin’, and ‘Dog, that was the tightest thing ever’. You haven’t seen that video? Watch it here, it’s fucking hilarious and better than ‘Yeezus’. Anyway, that was a pretty fucked tangent. Really I was just looking for an excuse to post that (thanks Clancy). But what I’m trying to say is that you should really go buy, support, love/make love to Ride Into the Sun. God knows they don’t need your support cos ‘they da next big thing’ and ‘they sent a demo to Diddy’, but still…be the squirrel.

You can be the squirrel by joining me in buying their shit. If you need more convincing, three of their tracks are on Triple J Unearthed right here; two of them are from the mini-LP, and one is an earlier thang. Apparently Ride Into the Sun are also a blazin’ live band. The bad news is, they just finished up a tour with USA’s Bardo Pond (HOLY SHIT!). The good news is, they’re playing September 14th at Sydney Psych Fest with Dreamtime, Dead China Doll and Day Ravies amongst others. I am more there than a horny kid at a porn convention.


Video: The Black Angels-Don’t Play With Guns

What starts as a normal enough dinner turns into a fucked up cult orgy and a 10 year old doing a schizophrenic dance, with the introduction of the Illuminati symbol on a TV. The girl is a spitting image of Wednesday Addams, and fucks with her parents at dinner, which is kind of a dick move, but whatever, it’s The Black Angels. These guys are the gods of Texas psychedelic, better than even The Butthole Surfers, and if you haven’t checked out their new-ish album ‘Indigo Meadow’ it’s well worth your time.