Music should be made in the dark. Not necessarily pitch blackness, but low light, so the shadows can come out and join the act. With high ball glasses cooking on a tube amp, with brown liquid or a pint glass full of black beer. Centipede oil. Though I don’t partake, I don’t even mind a whiff of smoke in the air especially if it’s from something green. Then the hint of nervous excitement before the first chord or drum fill breaks the sound barrier, kicking off the first song, followed by the dizzying Vulcan mind-meld of a band gelling, becoming a multi-limbed creature, a schizophrenic shoggoth, conjuring from the ether - sound - in the greasy jewel-tone stage lights, casting shadows, casting a net, catching a moment divorced from time and normal reality. Playing almost too loud, but not overbearing, just in the resonating zone that makes your molecules shimmy just right. Everybody feels it. Everyone is a part of it. We cast the spell. Together. In the dark.
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