The Godspot's The Dust on a Moth’s Wings is totally out there
The Dust on a Moth’s Wings (Independent)
At the risk of creating future problems for them at the border, a job interview, or their next parole-officer visit, here’s a simple question: do the members of the Godspot do a fucking shitload of drugs? There’s a reason for asking. The band’s Twitter account contains the description “Drunken Steampunk Shoegaze for wannabe cowboys”. Hop on over to the Godspot’s Soundcloud page and you’ll get something even more, um, cheeba-flavoured, namely a rambling manifesto on what it means to lose your soul. (Sample snippet: “Life’s an absurdist no mare, we are all on the same path, and I need to give myself some sort of meaning, I can work a corporate job but if they don’t have my mind, and my heart, then at least I’m free.”)
Out there? Totally, which should give you a good idea of what to expect from The Dust on a Moth’s Wings. There’s a good case to be made that the Godspot is somewhat guilty of bending the truth on the steampunk front, as the seven-song release doesn’t exactly sound like it belongs on an iPod playlist between Abney Park and Steam Powered Giraffe. Instead, what you get is hyper-trippy psychedelic country. Imagine the 13th Floor Elevators dropping four sheets of brown acid with the Black Angels and Bob Dylan, and you’ve got a good reference point for songs like “At War in Pieces” and “The Back of My Hand”. For sheer awesome epicness, start with the title track, a six-minute paisley explosion that seems like it’s 93-percent endless guitar solo. For a welcome comedown, head to velvet-morning waltz “Mechanical Bulls”, which starts out with the lines, “I had a dream that you killed my friend/And then you shot me full of heroin.”
The subliminal message? Do whatever drugs you can get your little hands on, kids. It seems to be working out fine for the Godspot, who are probably snorting the dust of some exotic moth’s wings as we speak.