One song/one listen: Monsonia

by Wild Bill Heroic

I know no one's going to lose any sleep here, but I meant to put one of these up on Friday. I have been troutscrewingly busy, Itellyouwut. I spent half the week off-planet for no good or obvious reason.

***

So I want something either really heavy or really epic to do for this week's one song/one listen. That's kind of the mood I'm in and that's the kind of writing I want to do right now. I want something I can really space into, or maybe space out of. Shit, I don't know. This is a very indecisive time to be a Heroic. Daddy Heroic would be ashamed if he knew.

So I'm going to check the show listings, find someone who's playing in the next three months who I've been meaning to check out
and
select...

Monsonia?

Monsonia.

Sure. I've been meaning to see what they're all about. I know they've shared the stage with some supreme radness in the past. So before I smumble any other craps out my mouth I'm going to do some listening and some writing. And maybe then I'll go to bed.

I promise you, this is the first time I've heard this jam. Headphones on & here goes...

Monsonia - Asshaus (link)

Starting off with some drop-D guitar. Not too wild yet, kind of laid-back, but it walks like a crocodile. It slithers low across the landscape, like you couldn't see it move except for the rustle of the high grasses. Now a bleared voice comes through, drunken and contagious, and by the time the great throat of the guitar strikes again the song's grown some in size. Now it's a family of crocodiles and we're on the roof of the house, watching them stomp wavering snake shapes in a field.

Now the lead-in to the great throaty guitar line is a scream. The drunken voice gains terminal velocity and encourages the guitars to chungle right along like gigantic dump trucks - the huge dump trucks with tires the size of houses. This song is filled with menace. Now the voice is back, screaming and tiny, insignificant in the path of whatever is coming to destroy. The menace is almost palpable, things in the room that should not scare me are scaring me now. This is a conduit to the subconscious, to the reptile brain, to the part of us that is fueled by wide-eyed diesel.