It's been awhile since I've posted anything here, but a lot of vinyl has slipped into my grasp since then, it would be a rather strange overhaul, I must say, if I could get it together enough to convey the half of it to you.
Considering some of it takes shape in 7" form, there's opportunity there for further exploitation in my blog. I should only dream that I could comprehensively cover the variety of seven-inch singles and mini albums that I have crammed into my collection, mostly unused and unlistened to. It's a sad reality overlooking the seven-inchers, they're just not worth bothering for when you get right down to it. I mean, the people who really care just don't represent a significant enough portion of the remaining populace to make a difference, sounds like your presidential elections nowadays, don't it? Ok, nevermind I'm getting off track here.
Right now I'm listening to the Mario Bros. soundtrack blasting from the deep level my son has gained out there in the other room, it sounds like he's made it pretty far up the hierarchy of foes defeated and traps overcome. It's industrial clairvoyant bouncy digital beat rings in my ears to the point of becoming infectious. This is how possession takes place on a musical scale, with the lifeblood of the heart and soul coursing through it. A lot of great bands came and went. How would I know.
All I know is I'm mighty bummed to hear the news that my favorite post-rock band in town, 2-Headed Whale, has flapped its mighty flukes through the primordial depths no more. They were my favorite band to see live here in town during the last few years, and its not just because every set they delivered was different and devastating, it was because their live performances were transcendent electrocutions of a primeval soundscape the imagination filled in with feverish ease. At least I was there to witness what I consider to be Salt Lake City's offering to the post-rock scene.
Listening to them live always sent me into a hypnotic trance deep beneath the waves and somewhere toward the fathomless bottom of the ocean envisioning the lower order of a sunken kingdom thriving in secret synchronicity. An empire of coral forming a sunken cityscape beneath the waves.
I'm bummed they may never release their first album on vinyl, as they'd planned on doing. Maybe with some luck, that might still end up happening. Otherwise, 2HW was one of those legendary elusive bands that you just had to have witnessed live to understand. The first time I saw them was at a Crucialfest when they were in a lineup opening for Wovenhand, I think. Memories tend to blur in pre-pandemic times; afterward, they're steeped into legend.
Their set was mesmerizing so after its final tones diminished into the distance I went out back on to the smoke deck to introduce myself to them. Ned, his brother Chase, Angela, and Ian are just super approachable and extremely down to Earth people. They were always super cool and mingling with the crowd at all their shows. I'm very lucky I laid down the bucks for the T-shirt, one of only less than a half dozen made, I believe. It serves as a comfortable reminder that this scene really happened and wasn't just a conjured up fever dream in my demented imagination.
I don't think I can put into words what 2HW live shows mean to me. Notice I say mean. That's because the repercussions of those shows are all still slamming into me. The reverberations went that deep. They retired well over a year ago and I'm still listening to the echoes they instilled within my head. [Grayden's got a new project he's been working on as of late, called A Loving Hell, that I"m looking forward to.]
Listening to 2 Headed Whale live at Diabolical Records once I found myself feeling as if I were suddenly deep under the sea, on some strange ocean floor's terrain. Their music reached orchestral peaks of descending levels of dissonance that incurred strange and wondrous visions. Everyone in the place was rooted to their spots, entranced by the subdimensional power of Chase and Grayden with Ian and Angela's dedicated input. I stood rooted to the spot before their colossal pillar of sound.
I consider 2 Headed Whale to be one of those bands shining bright just as we slid into the turbulent waters of the pandemic. Mix that with politics and you have the recipe for class A world disasters brewing. I saw them perform many times and grew to cherish both the anticipation and deliverance of each one of their unique and devastating sets. In terms of post-rock, Two Headed Whale put Salt Lake City on the map, as far as I'm concerned.
Long may our memories of hanging out in front of Diabolical Records waiting to see the fantastic array of local talent assemble for some truly phenomenal evenings of performance art rock unparalleled in our time continue to haunt our dreams and fuel the memories of all the live shows we used to see together. Energizing the transition between us and the next era we've locked with and sliding into.
Eventually A Loving Hell will perform at the Metro and I will go wearing my 2HW shirt and my heart on my sleeve. Stay tuned to this blog for future reports to come on a chill crisp winter's eve.
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