by Charles Davis
Psychonauts aloft in the deep abyss of nothingness, calculating the eternal dimensions, multiversal within without oneself, alone together in the ether. Vacuists and plenists, black holes and quasars, rapturous life-breath stars and desolate conglomerations of barren landscapes; such is a conceivable/ inconceivable macrocosm. Acataleptic warriors in pursuit of truth - philosophically negentropic, spiritually entropic.
Philadelphia's Sun Organ spares no expense in their quest for singular art. As displayed on the most recent LP, Portal, there isn't a limit, and each personal, individual experience is part of our greater collective web. No beginning, no end - there is, however, a grand and imposing entrance. A reflection, perhaps, of what hides within the soul, as consciousness may just be the multiverse's awareness of its own existence.
Organically grown and biodynamically farmed, these roots are deep and fruits lush. The warmth of the analogousness is enough to kill off all harmful bacteria, viruses, and other such possibly harmful pathogens, while a clean fermentation allows allies to flourish. Magnetic tapes and earthen drums rumble, colliding with the guitar's tectonic movements, as melodically vibrant vocals hash out humanistic dissonance, taking motions to new altitudes. This is a rainbow of immortal colors; full spectrum, and beyond current definitions. “Roses are red, violets are blue,” they used to say; that's because purple wasn't “invented” until 1856.
Having been privy to the work of Sun Organ since their LP Wooden Brain, via basement-enamored Philly friends' repetitious “You gotta check this band out,” the majesty of Portal remains impressive. Apocalyptically sorcerous, if one found themselves on such an exploration, devoid of preconceived notions surrounding barriers of sonic expansion and vibratory applications, Sun Organ's entire catalogue is recommended. With respect to existing fans of the creators, this is a work of integral meaning, and amongst their best to date.