UNIVERSAL INDIANS - monster approach LP, Killertree

$12.00

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“Olson: “You Stoned?” Ramirez: “Probably” Possibly the going rate for this unit – Universal Indians had this whole other life that spewed out on the stages and floors, a couple records, a few cassettes, even a video (which will see the light of day on dvd, much later). But more at home and more comfortable slamming out psych blow-outs in the basement of 325 Foster Ave in Lansing, MI. The so-called legacy thing for MK1 Universal Indians which stretched from 94 to 97 (not 93 that all music states) was simple in the philosophy dept and may have a fools merit – Drudge up some riffs, words, jack the amps, over-distort the Rat pedals to the point of canceling itself out, throw it together for Jesse Harper executed by The Dead C, praying for a spot in the Twisted Village or Siltbreeze. And get real high. American Tapes was barely in the double digits and we attempted to capture every session, every show on Olsons handheld recorder – lo fi to the gills but solid and thick sounding like speakers takina shit. Green light was at the crossroads for stacks and stacks of tapes to be pillaged throughout last Springtime end and Summer eves until four solid cuts were culled for an LP release. And this is the sh*t – the first side ranges from over the f*cking top heavy driving High Rise wah battle to some serious reps on Olsons traps accompanying minimal trashed-out skronk chords pushing on the VU meter to pure slimy menacing blues skuzz that dissipates into a fine, loose rubbery mess (like every song does, and yeah, these are actual songs) with the sound is so thick that the grooves are white. Side Two holds two songs meshed together with fine stewardship ala GDs Ithaca 77 Scarlet/Fire blowout for a solid side-long mother of all battalion guitar ventures. Nudging Driver UFO & The Holy Sound of the American Pipe in the UI unisound tradition in a 16 minute rant that makes this cut a pinnacle in the annals of low-brow grong for the UI books – 3 or 4 minutes of semi-coherency, the rest a blaze of solid head-fuckery, a good one to get lost in. Our version of hard, loose psych to match head on all the fancy collector jargon hustled for big bills (only to receive some waysted bar band hashing out piss bloooz). Call it pride but it needed to be solid and realer than real. The end result coincides to a cruddy mix tape (levels are screwed considering each song is from a different session) and acclimates to the sh*ttiest of stereos. These four cuts are from 94-95, two live cuts, two prax sessions, Olson kills the drums, Ramirez hashes the riffs, the wah & mumblings. And there was another guitar lazily played by someone from somewhere doing something when she wasnt doing her homework. Limited to 300 copies on vinyl – the demon is finally at rest.”