AT THE FOOT OF ZODIAC MOUNTAIN

Davenport Family were a collective of freak folks and psychedelic noise(unmerry)markers that hail from the Madison, Wisconsin, USA areas' underground noise/psych scene. Davenport Family (DF from now on) carry on in the tradition of the first Amon Duul, Ya Ho Wha 13, Siloah, Zendik Community, etc. That is to say, making loose, krautrock inflicted, improvised and primitive free folk/psych/rock of the utmost heathenistic variety and quality, minus the cult aspects of Father Yod and Zendik, and more of the 'light up a campfire and start clunking and clogging away on whatever instrument you have on hand'. It's safe to assume most DF releases were recorded outdoors, in barns or some such other place. This applies to the community gathering only however, don't let my description of campfire gatherings and B.Y.O. instruments lead you into thinking this is going to be a summer of love, peace dude, hippie affair. DF's brand of communal folk freakery often times doesn't merely flirt and toy with undercurrents of darkness, but fully embrace them. Though DF aren't as dark, think of the similarly minded collective from Belgium, Silvester Anfang and their self-styled 'Funeral Folk'. This final offering from Davenport Family, before changing name to Second Family Band, and continuing on in the same manner, offers a magnificent send off.

The nearly 33 minute jam that is At the Foot of Zodiac Mountain starts out life slowly at first. Electronics, guitar and vocals queasily and darkly groan away, often drenched in reverb and various effects. While drums and various percussion freely thump and clang, sparse and distant, before gaining momentum and tribalistic rhythm, rising in intensity against the backdrop, which has turned into a frenzy of buzzing and thrumming, feedback and noise, before falling apart and re-congealing into the void-like morass. This presents itself as a cycle, that of lysergy, slowly building into uncouth paganist noise, but upon the feverish plateau being reached, the tribal percussives, cracked and moaning guitars and electronics, whooping and hollering, everything inevitably and slowly slides back into abyss of zonked out and evilly twinkling sparsity. By the time the final recorded cycle has spasmed out into the darkness, you'll want to join in (or you stopped listening 5 minutes in cause you hated this wonderful mess, fair play).

I unashamedly love these communal groups who jam out wild, percussive, psych freak outs, and this dark and gloamy, paint spattered little cassette offering sits at the top of this niche pile.