It is funny how we have come to associate a certain kind of sound to underground rock bands and artistes from different countries, for example we tend to expect a level of crushing intensity from bands hailing from Poland, Swedish bands we often associate with distortion drenched hard rock mixed with a large dose of fuzzy bluesiness while Chile seems to have cornered the market, in our minds, when it comes to swirling heavy psych. Now we do not know if it is just us but when we think of bands from Mexico we tend to think of bands with an abrasive and gritty edge to their grooves, an uncompromising rawness. Mexico City's Okktli, Alfonso Brito López (vocals & rhythm guitar); Mauricio Hernández (drums); Israel Oñate (bass) and César Gama (lead guitar), however are a band not so easily pigeonholed, yes their music does possess elements of that rawness and grit we have so readily associated with rock music from their home country but there is also a richness of texture and colour to their sound that we do not usually equate with Mexico's underground rock scene, textures and colours that could be found gracing their self-titled debut release "Okktli" but are even more prominent on their latest release "Lado A".
Things begin on the right side of dank and crunchy with opening track "March of Glory" a thrumming and atmospheric instrumental driven by militaristic drumming and basement low bass over which the guitars deliver mid to slow tempo refrains and dark twisting solos it is followed by "The Uprising" a proto-doomic behemoth with bluesy undertones that sports call to arms type lyrical content, Lopez telling a tale of the dead ancestors rising up to claim back their thrones in tones deep luxuriant and powerful against a backdrop of thunderous bass and drum groove enhanced by wailing lead work and crunching rhythm guitar. Next track "I Walk Alone" is a lament come torch song drenched in atmosphere that sees Lopez and Gama initially trading off guitar motifs over a deliciously emotive doomic blues groove expertly delivered by Oñate and Hernández, Lopez's guitar work then dropping out slightly in order to deliver a deliciously smooth lounge lizard like crooned vocal. If the song was to fade out at this point there would be no complaints from Desert Psychlist, nor we should imagine the majority of listeners, but instead of a fade out we get a gear change into proto-doom/metal territory, López's vocal shifting from a croon to a powerful and quite soulful roar beneath which the songs groove moves from bluesy and laid back to insistent and thrusting in response. Final track "Mistress of the Sea" is a shape shifting riff monster that routinely swings back and forth between traditional and proto doom, atmospheric and moody one minute, blustering and bold the next, López altering his vocal attack to accommodate both disciplines.
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