ANGELS OF LIGHT - NEW MOTHER

            For some reason I see both Michael Gira (Swans, the Angels of Light, Young God Records) and Wayne Coyne (The Flaming Lips) as giant, floating, bodyless heads, perhaps rising from the Pacific ocean during a Hawaiian sunset. Their music seems to tap into cosmic forces, and when we describe their music as sweeping, we mean literally that—as if they come with giant brooms and sweep away all the shit that distracts us from living beautiful lives.
            Right now I am listening to New Mother by The Angels of Light. It is the first Angels of Light album, which I can only describe as a vibrating purple and Kelly green animal who has learned English and murmurs intimately to you about its regrets, departures, havings, losings, openings, and friends. It is clutter-free, devastating, opening, centering, cycling, de-punishing. In short, it can be a gorgeous medicinal infidel for you in this mundane black hole of a city that we live in. It is for me.
            There is a dark gem at its center called "The Man With The Silver Tongue", and it is fucking incredible:

The man with
the silver tongue
is cutting off
my silver tongue

Etc. This is definitely one of the more disturbing songs on the album, and that is probably because it is about one of Gira's favorite visual artists, Rudolf Schwartzkogler. Go ahead and Google him. Discomfort is definitely a part of this album's experience.
            BUT: songs like "Praise Your Name" and "Forever Yours" are emission nebulae, devotional songs, swelling with love and honest emotion. Angels of Light is not concerned with total demented gore and carnage, and Gira isn't interested in thrills alone; he is obviously an enormously gifted poet. Two of my favorite lyrics ever are on this album. The first is in the song "Angels of Light", a beautiful song that beats with a feeling of ascension:

you're not free now, you're not innocent,
but you're transparent, and you're right

The other is in the song "The Garden Hides the Jewel", about Marcel Duchamp's last work of art:

Pink dolphin lips accept the shape and shine with liquid innocence

All right, I can't say any more about this album. It's truly beautiful, but take heed of the photo that decorates this album's cover. It appears to be the mouth of some kind of cave, totally grown over with emerald-green vegetation. If you look closely, you'll see it's upside down. It's calling to you. Don't worry about coming back.