Sleep 5.6.15 @ The Civic Theatre

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As Stoner Metal moves into the common consciousness, you may want (or even need) to know that Dopesmoker is the Pet Sounds of the whole movement, a shining, definitive, artistic achievement and reference point.

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Also, Dopesmoker, which is comprised of a single grunting, grinding, shuddering and thronking 63-minute-long song about a bong-toting Jesus entering the Holy Land, is a credible candidate for the best album of the last 25 years.

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The churning, gargling, rageful and raging immolating sound of Dopesmoker resembles a big fat angel baby tearing the devil’s construction paper, and it’s pissing the devil off, so the big fat angel baby does it again, and again, and again. Now, when you tear construction paper (gruuullllp) you can’t tear it precisely the same shape twice; so the baby, who is sitting on floor of Hell’s Playpen, is eventually belly-button-deep in construction paper scraps, all of which are more or less the same size and shape, but when examined closely, differ wildly, each ripped with a different intent and level of ire. Got it? Because that’s what the damned thing sounds like.

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More than anything else, Dopesmoker is just an unstoppable metal album (albeit one that sounds like monks meditating while chewing on tin foil for an hour), so full of fury and confidence that the listener never questions the repetition or the novel structure.

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A few years back I saw them perform at an old theatre in Los Angeles; I left the show early because I genuinely feared that the extreme bass frequencies were going to bring the building down. A friend I attended the show with said “They made my eyeballs shake. That’s never happened to me before.”

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"eyeballs shake"

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