Pocahaunted (Make It Real.)
Imagine giving the ayahuasca drinking Urarina tribe of peru a 60’s Doors setup and just letting go of yourself as you are propelled into a neo-shamanic utopia drenched in psychedelic textures of hypnotic bass lines and free transcending vocal melodies. Pocahaunted would be a band I would not mind gliding upstream to comfortably cross the fine line between ecstasy and insanity. The overall sound is endearingly gritty, the raucous grooves subdue the trance-inducing vocals, transforming them into an instrumental device rather than a linguistic discharge whilst the bass morphs into a smothering blanket of throbbing oscillations that pulsate to the core of the deepest nuclei. The zenith of their new boisterous album ‘Make It Real’ has to be the phenomenal track U.F.O which lies somewhere between a cosmic rendition of David Icke live preaching the esoteric truth about the shapeshifting reptilian humanoids and a warped ‘songs of praise’ special at St. Martin’s church in homage of the venerable Lord Xenu’s ascension as the new head chancellor of the Intergalactic Federation of Planets. At points the cavities of your brain begin to swell, expanding and contracting to the grinding resonance of the psyche-generated mothership and the temporary walls of your mind dissolve engulfed in a flood of light as the scream that once was yours becomes ever more distant and alien. Left formless without body after the cataclysmic enlightening you, if you can still be referred to as you, are assisted by the insidious nymphs of the netherworld to a place of eternal rapture.
Other songs tell a similar story of haitian voodoo princesses, existential meltdowns and days out to the park with grandmother intoxicated on the aroma of life. It was not always like this though. Time before the sculpting of this mesmorising album, Pocahaunted indulged in the occult arts of sonic magik, creating soundscapes of post-apocalyptic earth after the war of balefire destroyed the futile habitat of the 6th generation humans. Dabbling in improvised prophetic exploration they emerged out of a drone elicited coma with a band of faithful compadres on the ‘Not Not Fun’ label with there new album. Listen and let go.
Words Daniel Fiasco.