It’s rare I say this, but this is dancin’ music. I don’t exactly dance much, and in fact, I am not even sure how you would dance to it, and let’s face it I am unlikely to ever find out, but nevertheless it really is not sitting there and nodding your head music at all.
Mentioning instrumental psychedelia in the UK tends to conjure the form of the stylish and somewhat arch Y Niwl. I like Y Niwl, but this shit would rip their balls off and make them watch as they fed them to their mothers.
I’ve written about Waylon Thornton & the Heavy Hands before, but where the Heavy Hands stuff is full band, this is an instrumental album. It’s similar stuff: swampy, balls-out, rocking, lo-fi psychedelia, and it’ll put hairs on your chest even if you’re a girl.
Wisely, Black Salt is not just a full-throttle belter from start to finish. Thornton shifts the pace and keeps the songs short and snappy, so you’re never in danger of developing the kind of ear-fatigue you might if this were just relentless bashing all the way through. Instead, he slips into slower, darker territory here and there, plays with more of a cocky swagger at times, and then at others simply cuts loose and goes for it.
It’s all over far sooner than you expect, and it’s such a reckless, carefree stagger of an album I’ve found myself simply sticking it right back on again from the start many a time. Fine stuff.