Old Time Relijun - 2012

Genre rock Publisher K Records External Links Official Website K Records

Mayan Long Count says its time to wrap it all up on December 21, 2012. That day marks either the end of the world or an indescribable morph in human existence permanently altering life as we know it which sucks a little bit if your life's a pleasant one, although I suppose it's good to have a timeframe. Get all your hedonistic shit out, explore those fantasies, do some good deeds, that type of thing. So we're working on seven short years before it's all over, and Old Time Relijun is not only right on board for the apocalypse, they're contenders for scoring the whole damn party.

Just prior to hearing 2012 (the second part of a proposed trilogy starting with 2004's Lost Light), I'd been listening to Shankar with Zakir Hussain and Vikku Vinayakram, which really prepared me quite well for a sporadic, somewhat disconnected, unusual ocular experience. The album starts without us as we tune into "Chemical Factory," a temperamental song fading into an already established groove. Rhythm. They don't ever lose sight of that backbone on the entire album, but it's particularly evident in that song. The vocals, saxophone, guitar, and other random instruments like the mouth harp play around this unwavering force. The percussion's consistency is decidedly enhanced by the addition of drummer Jamie Peterson, lining up with stand-up bassist Aaron Hartman to back Arrington DeDionyso's controlled oscillation.

The best two songs are "Los Angeles," which possesses the infectious lyrical line "from the one oh one to the one ten to the ten to the two to the one" and "Your Mama Used to Dance," a Beefhearty contribution drizzled with crazy sax and vocals double-helixing within atypical melodic constraints. "Reptilians" ain't bad either. Weirdo. His panting snort is no better displayed than on "Wolves and Wolverines;" just hearing that sort of breathing cadence mildly arouses me. Then the eleventh track "The King of Lost Light (a reprise)" with its lusty mantra, "One red heart still beating," has an undulating rhythm that replicates the back and forth of a really good screw. He's a strange and horny dude, DeDionyso, and I have no problem saying sayonara to the blue marble in a few years as long as he and his goon squad have a lock on the soundtrack.