1. Teonanacatl [mp3]
Recorded on July 10, August 5, September 13 and October 9, 2002
Reconstructed at Studio Weird October 2002 by Erik Amlee
Erik Amlee: guitars, sitar, recorder, tapes, effects, noise
Aleda Jonquil: electronics, casio, effects
Nate Longcope: jaw harp, kalimba, video, casio, electronics
The Live Sound of Paradise Camp 23.
Four improvised performances captured on stereo cassette, then merged into a single work with a minimum of edits or cuts. The unexpected results of this random process blend into an intense psychedelic ceremony, with spontaneously created tones and sounds reacting and harmonizing across Time. Listening through speakers in a darkened room suggested for best effect and comfort in travelling.
Aural Innovations #24 - June 2003
"Teonanacatl gives us a glimpse into the live Paradise Camp 23 experience. The single 33 minute track is actually taken from 4 separate performances, and though firmly in the noise/space/psych/sound-art realm, Teonanacatl comes across as being far more atmospheric and purely psychedelic than Solitaire. I love the industrial drone mass, swirling guitar patterns, and singing wolf and wind howls. Pulsating flying saucers hover overhead along with whining and crashing guitars, factory hums, psychedelic sitars, and plenty of space weirdness. Much of this is like an extended version of the little freakout bits that made Hawkwind's Space Ritual so special. Some of the guitar notes sound like Robert Fripp gone acid freakout. A totally spaced journey into that dimension where cosmic space and an ethereal brand of aggression coexist." -- Jerry Kranitz
Dead Angel #57 (05/03)
"Here's the deal: the band recorded, in two-track stereo, four separate live performances between July and October of 2002, then went into the studio and constructed this final piece from portions taken from those four performances. The idea isn't particularly new -- bands as diverse as the late (and lamented) Abunai! and Phill Niblock have done similar things in the past -- but then, they weren't on Mandragora, where everything seems to take on a dark and sinister cast. (This is good,by the way.) Anyway, the band took their shot at the concept, and the result is one long (thirty-plus minutes) track defined as a drifting, droning curtain of sound Guitars, recorders, electronic devices, efx, jaw harp, Casio, sitar, everything but the kitchen sink or any other kind of percussion -- it all floats in and out of a vast, whirling cloud of sound, like a tornado slowed down to a dark and plodding drone. Parts of it sound fairly dire -- one hopes there weren't any club-hoppers on acid freaking out during these shows. The sonic gravity gets pretty powerful at times, especially when they lay it on thick, piling up big sheets of sound until it sounds like jet airplanes and helicopters hoving over the ground. They know how to ebb and flow, though, so it doesn't get too endlessly oppressive. Their swirling space-rock sound should go down like a cheerleader at the submarine races with anyone into heavy psych-rock, too. Fine, demented sounds for your next lengthy trance ritual."