RETURN TRIP

At some point during the Friday nite madness, while my brain and mouth went on divergent journeys and my body reeled with conflicting substances forced upon it, something conjured long forgotten memories of Neurosis at a mid90s Ozzfest. Immediately I was transported and had to rewatch the clip. 

The sinister Amebix-like tribal drums. 3 (4?) overlapping, almost hysterical, vocals like an afternoon spent with Nick Blinko. The fella pounding fire and brimstone from some sort of organ of absolute hell. The three guitars not played but thrashed around, manhandled, strangled, jagged shards of sound wrought out of, no longer instruments, but tools for a more primitive, chaotic and violent communication altogether. 

Apocalyptic is the only way to describe the maelstrom, inner and outer. At least half the band are about to destruct before your eyes/ears. And the swaying, leering, pent up aggression of the bassist, the clenched jaw and bulging eyes. Animal stalking its cage. The unforgettable, breathtaking silence before eruption-rapture: 

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISE!

I’ve been watching this clip faithfully if intermittently since 2007, when I really knew nuthin about nuthin. I return to it over the years, sometimes just to get my mind blown again, or to remind myself of what a live performance should be. (This clip is a prime suspect for inspiring my stagespazz crimes). But I sometimes come away with what feels suspiciously like a greater knowledge of whatever esoteric arts they are engaging in here. Though I can never express or explain that, it’s just a feeling, a slightly greater appreciation/understanding than the last viewing granted. Another step in a strange meandering inner journey. (If you masturbate in complete meridians of yourself, is it a circle jerk?).

What is this clip? It’s not just playing hard n heavy. There’s something else going on here. Something keeps pulling me back. It’s not even a particularly well written song in my opinion (though I am admittedly a musical halfwit). But I’m reluctant. I don’t think we need to know, we don’t have to unravel every loose, nagging thread. There’s something to be said for the veil of voluntary ignorance. 

A little while ago I took a microdot of the strongest acid I’ve ever encountered. That it was in Las Vegas is a cliche even I must roll my eyes at. Anyway, the headliner that day was Neurosis. I knew Neurosis on acid would make for a fucking chef’s kiss of a brainbombing. 

And out at the pool stage, feeling queasy at Blood Ceremony’s satanically annoying Jethro Tull-isms, it seemed like the correct path. But the acid was already so strong that moving limbs was of monumental difficulty. After an eternity, the idea was abandoned, not least becuz the Pasadena psychonaut who supplied the microdots came crawling out to us on his hands and knees. 

‘I… was… watching… Neurosis…’ 

‘Oh… how… were…… they?’

Tensing up on all fours like an animal, head down, swinging side to side:

‘………………… DON’T… GO IN… THERE…’

So we missed them that time. I’m not sure it would have been like the idealised version I have in my head of this clip anyway. I’ve been watching and marvelling at it for so long, on and off. 

Buried beneath the comments of this near 20 year old posted clip, some internet genius says it best, and I can only paraphrase/pervert their original sentiment: Imagine waiting for Coal Chamber, or Ozzy, or some other 90s atrocity, and witnessing THIS. 

Post Script - man I shoulda never smoke that shit, now I’m writing essays about Neurosis YouTube clips.