I say “Ah God!” and you say “Goddammit!” and we’re in a tomato/tomahto
situation, sort of, where no one wins. It’s because of this that we have to sit
back and you have to smoke a bowl (because I don’t hit that) and we have to
reimagine our lives in overlapping Venn diagrams of languages of frustration.
Because why? Because we need to understand each other, that’s why! Why are we
even frustrated in the first place? And how can we overcome such a dire state
of mind?
Let me continue, and you try to hang in there. You good and baked? OK,
great. I say “Ah God!” because Ah God is a band that I was just introduced to
like half an hour ago. I also say “Ah God!” because the band Ah God I was
introduced to, the one from Portland, Oregon (screw you, Maine!), is a headrush
and then a trainwreck of massively off-kilter psych-pop, a
tornado-through-a-trailer-park flinging brightly colored plastic debris and
garbage over as wide a swath of Kansas prairie as possible. Why bring Kansas into
this? Why not? It’s filled with garbage and prairie! (Or so I imagine.)
Imagine the Flaming Lips, circa In
a Priest-Driven Ambulance, writing tunes with Syd Barrett’s ghost and
Courtney Taylor-Taylor instead of Miley Cyrus and you’ve got the gist. And
that’s why you and I, in our different states of mental awareness and
inebriation, should be putting our arms around each other’s shoulders and
singing “Kumbaya” instead of flinging invectives at each other. This
self-titled cassette, pink shell, poly clear case, edition of 100, has the
capacity to wrangle peace from the cosmos and plaster smiles on even the
grumpiest Grinch’s face. Do yourself a favor and tap into that vibe, won’t you?
You’ll thank me later, potato.
--Ryan Masteller
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