Seeds of Orbit
Seeds of Orbit is a three piece featuring Mark Petersound (aka Mark Petersen, ex Straitjacket Fits) and Marty Doo (The Beads/Glide) and Bridgette Bowie (Fake Purr/The Doris Days). Their debut self-titled five-track EP is a throwback to the metal-meets-psychedelic rock that’s somehow never ever been hip until just right now. Seeds of Orbit actually kick off with the twee and tuneful Makeup Of Moments, it’s got a slinky guitar part that dances down the spine of the song, but you’d be forgiven for thinking that Don McGlashan had decided to just shake a limb (just the one, mind) loose for just a little bit. Great wee song – even if/because the chorus, when it arrives, brings with it vague memories of Use Your Illusion I/II-era Gunners; now you’re messing with a different kind of son of a bitch though.
And as Tinker, track two, curls up on the outside of a parody-guitar figure, sorta Tenacious D and Spinal Tap in a fight to the death, a mock-theatrical vocal ushers in a rocking-good tune, that, in full flight, reminds of Matchstick Men-era Status Quo and The Who of earliest days and Syd Barrett’s Floyd. Piling up the psychedelic sounds of London in ‘66/’67, it’s all been done before – but never quite like this. There’s just enough of a freshness to it.
The same can’t be said for Purple, which feels so much like a Deep Purple song you have to figure that’s what the title is alluding to – oh but shit it’s a great song. Totally over-the-top and then race-to-the-finish with a riff that won’t quit and drums that all but lock up the front handlebars they’re so quick to sit right in behind Ian Paice’s groove. When we hear a ludicrous proclamation, “I am the centre of the sun!” you realise that not only have these guys raided your record collections, their record collections and mine – they’re also yet another example that the best heavy rock music dances far too close to the parodies of Spinal Tap, The Darkness and Black Sabbath-after-1973.
Oh Long John is like something that should have appeared in the soundtrack to Dazed and Confused. A dizzying coil of guitar leads to the thrill-ride surge of pilfered Led Zep/Soundgarden caterwauling; reminds too of those old 1960s/1970s compilations you sought, especially for the no-name album tracks buried deep in behind the obvious hits.
And then it’s to I Stoner – the absolute best track here and another wonderful lurch of a riff with Iommi-styled semi-soloing and only the faintest whiff, once again, that somewhere, somehow you’ve heard this – but even more intriguing is that you’ve obviously never quite heard it like this. It’s a wonderful magic act these guys are playing here, wool over the eyes for the five songs. I’m hooked. I’m happy. Can they do it for a full album? I fucking hope so!