Sunday, January 8, 2012

New Weed Temple

2012 marks some changes, including probably the biggest change in Weed Temple since its inception in 2008, that is moving the blog to a new platform. From now on Weed Temple will be on Tumblr - as . This might be a controversial (and slightly unpopular decision), but I'm sure the readers will get over it. I find Tumblr easier to use and customize than Blogger, and while it may be missing a few options, like ability to comment (which I will fix as soon as possible by installing Disqus comment system on the site), it's generally more "forward" than Blogger.

This blog will stay here with all downloads and reviews intact. It's still up to me to decide whether I'll move Weed Temple operations to Tumblr permanently or it will be a disappointment and I'll go back to good ol' Blogger. Time will show. In the meantime, go to the new address and check out some hot new albums!

Sunday, January 1, 2012

røb - røb

Harsh and heavy drones from the former Christchurch, New Zealand resident Robert Martelli created as the aftermath of the 2011 earthquakes in Christchurch. The ghost of Roy Montgomery hovers above this mini-EP, albeit much more tectonic and palpatable, closer to Torlesse Super Group than his solo work. Here's the commentary from the e-mail about the event and the explanation of the track titles:
"A post-earthquake doom-heart thrums through the city’s caverns; the partially collapsed cathedrals and the empty roads at DAWN. Despite the openness, there is a kind of claustrophobia here, an asphyxiating feeling. It’s the swamp, it’ll suck you down.
The hard edges of the DAY push against the skin. All the airconditioner sweat and the black coffee vitriol and the coins across the counter. Hollowed out, sunken-eyed, desperation triggers a yearning to return to the tall grass and big sky of childhood.
Every part of this body groans slowly, feeling too old while still being young. This is a kind of DEATH. In need of revivification, follow the desire to sit still on a mountainside. Hear only the wind in the ears, become a receptacle for the sun’s silent rays. Be reverberant and reverent. Await the fade to white."