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The Music of Decline

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I don't trust anyone who hasn't listened to Sister Ray all the way through -Ryan Edward Johnston
 

In another reality Ryan Edward Johnston would have taken his rightful place next to his acid casualty brethren Syd Barret and Skip Spence. But in this reality he is no more than another unheard voice. A muted echo decaying alone next to the scene of social media share-do-wells. The Godspot belong to a past they will never know, and a future who will never understand them. Somehow, I think that is exactly where they should to be. 

 

Vocals, Rythym Guitar, Delusions of Grandeur / Ryan Edward Johnston
Lead Guitar, Alberta Premium / Blake Hamilton
Bass, Vocals, Pulmonary Embolism / Elise Roque

Drums, Seal Clubbing / James Green

Tambourine, Latina Heat / Evelyn Cardona

 

 

 
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The Dust on a Moth's Wings

by The Godspot

The Godspot is open chord Discordian basement rock for cowboys. They swagger on stage with the confidence of a spaghetti western bandit and spit all over anyone's expectations. “Life's an absurdist no mare,” a beautifully incoherent rant on the sidebar of their Soundcloud proclaims. The Dust on a Moth's Wings, released on Egregious Records, is their first EP. Drawing from lo-fi, the blues, and of course the enormous canon of the psychedelic, the Vancouver party have busted out a furious, messy, and highly enjoyable record.

Despite their bravado and shambolic appearance, The Godspot are purposeful musicians aiming for the sweet mark of apparent carelessness. Their long opening title cut is driven to it's jam session conclusion by powerful bass handiwork and a rampage of a solo—psychedelic work influenced by the likes of Kawabata Makoto and Acid Mothers Temple. The final track, “Pretends,” is a lush and lovely experiment in background noise and a test of the sincerity of Ryan Edwards' vocals. The rest of the record falls somewhere in the middle. The Godspot drifts between sparse manic guitar work and wobbly fullness. Edwards' vocals are snotty but relatable. “At War in Pieces” feels like a Black Lips reinterpretation of an Ennio Morricone soundtrack shoved through a dozen layers of cross-cultural contamination. “Died in the Water (But Didn't Drown)” manages a gloomy justification of the group's emotive power while “Mechanical Bulls” is a self-satisfied refutation of the same. The band have labeled themselves as shoegaze, but we're unsure how drunk you'd have to be to agree. They're mad about something, and it's never quite explained what, but who really needs a reason? In a world where My Chemical Romance is allowed to cover David Bowie, there's more than enough to be mad about.

Though the record feels incoherent and self-defeating at first, progressive listens reveal subtlety and intelligence. The record is short, tight, and every track merits close attention. For an EP, and a debut one at that, The Dust on a Moth's Wings is interesting enough to make The Godspot worth keeping an eye on. If you don't, who knows what they might get up to. “Why sell your soul when you can lose it along the way?” the band asks. Their words echo those of Tuco in "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly." “Where we came from...one became a priest or a bandit. You chose your way, I chose mine.” The Godspot are Ugly indeed, and we love them for it.

-In Your Speakers