Review Summary: Give me the blues, give me the blues baby!
In his 1983 autobiography, Timothy Leary, champion of ‘60s counterculture and a PhD graduate in psychology from UC Berkeley, included an elaboration on probably his most famous quote “turn on, tune in, drop out”. In so many words, Leary explained that every individual needs to activate his/her internal mental mechanisms (turn on), resonate productively with his/her internal and external surroundings (tune in), and freely decide whether to maintain or shed his/her current state, mental or material, as a result of the aforementioned steps (drop out). That Leary saw the necessity of breaking down his saying in plain language, was an indication of the gap between the literal spirit of his words, and the various interpretations that transpired a posteriori. The precipitous collapse of the hippie movement, documented as a sci-fi metaphor in Philip K. Dick’s novel
A Scanner Darkly, wasn’t particularly helpful in narrowing the predicament in question. Dick’s account was as pragmatic as it was unforgiving relative to the devastating effect of psychedelic drugs (on hippie youth), which Leary touted as one of the ways of realizing the “turn on” step.
A relatively recent (mis)reading of Leary’s quip can be found in a 2015 article by Pat Joseph, editor of California Magazine, a publication of the Cal Alumni Association, which features content relevant to the people of UC Berkeley. Dubbed
Myth of the Dropout: “Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out” Never Really Described Berkeley Ethos, the article’s title and arguments, are all but top shelf material for a reprise of Luigi Pirantello’s play
So It Is, If You Think So, an evergreen close-up on the effect of conflicting aspects of truth, while in search for them all. Hippies were brought to their knees by drugs and superficial/utopian beliefs, but while the bad parts of their living were terminally flawed, the good parts, namely the spiritual and physical escapism from the ageless ills of the brutally conservative world at that time, are still relevant. On a legitimately analogous note, the first album of Hellene-Thessalonikans This Is Nowhere, titled after a shrewd paraphrase of Leary’s maxim, is an essential departure from legacy psych/stoner/heavy rock, especially if someone agrees with your reviewer that the said scene has been largely uneventful for a very long time.
Turn On, Tune Down, Drop D kicks off with a laid back emergence of fuzz from cosmic noise, a faint transmission from outer space, like the ones Dick would famously and allegedly receive every day around three and four am, before transcribing them in his books. The galvanization of the blues onto a dedicated noise/drone/psychedelic substrate is enough to listen to and write home about, but Manuel POV’s vocals, a rare blend of David Gahan, Glen Danzig and Jim Morrison, is a degree of freedom that few (if none) peering or legacy heavy rock bands have up their sleeves. On top of that, This Is Nowhere appear to be avidly aware of how easily their core set of styles can be derailed down yawning lane. To that end, they diversify the arrangements just enough, so as to preserve a good flow between songs, and a gradual buildup of dynamics, intra/inter-song-wise. An ample example is “I Need” which takes the elements of the album’s comfortably numb beginning, and adapts them into a groovy, more upbeat surf rock soundscape.
The menagerie described above, depends on the monolithic rhythm section of Bateman (bass) and Nick Negue (drums), but more importantly, on the space allocated on the vocal lines and the guitars of Jay O’ Leen alike. Along “I Need”, relatively up tempo cut “Two Nights” lies not too far from the scriptures of ancient Monster Magnet, as opposed to the rest of the album, whose unequivocal doom pace is brimming with sensuality, intense climaxes (“Moondub”), and primordial, ultra-heavy pulsations (“Theme for Peter”). None of these sensations would be properly manifested, sans the adopted sound work, whose careful lofi character catalyzes the balance of noise effects, rock instrumentation and vocals.
The ensemble of sounds in
Turn On... is so terse and rich at once, that your reviewer often fantasizes of attending the band as it performs a temporally extended version of the album on some Coachella major stage in the middle of the desert, while a bespoke array of visual effects available within the premise, sets the night ablaze. Unfortunately, This Is Nowhere live performances have been rare and confined in their homeland. If something is to blame for at least the rarity of concerts in Hellas, your reviewer can’t help but think of the Hellenic heavy rock establishment which is in dire need of turning on, tuning in, and dropping out, due to its infuriating penchant for promoting and recycling the exact same handful of major local bands in media outlets and major festivals.
