Our amp, who art in Tacoma, hallowed be thy fuzz. Having just moved here, I figured I should review a record by a band who’s been here longer than me, and Infinite Flux by Infinite Flux seemed like a good choice, because this album has enough groove in it to run you all the way here from New York (in this metaphor you are taking a tram car instead of a plane, which is what I took).
As doom, and consequently as ritualistic music, Infinite Flux waves its beardy bible not only at the gear, but of course also at that band that came out with that album called Servant of Things That Are Fake, except the opposite of that. One way you can tell is the cover of Infinite Flux’s demo references the artwork on that album about as subtly as my last post did. If there’s such a thing as “the font of teriyaki” …
… then I think it’s okay to call this “the font of fleeing Earth on your rocketship in the wake of environmental holocaust.”
Infinite Flux brings more updates here than just the serifs, however. Is Infinite Flux Sabbath worship? Unapologetically so, but it places Sabbath in a pantheon beside Blue Öyster Cult, Jethro Tull and something that lurks in the Northwestern wilderness, something damp, something hairy. Apropros Jethro Tull, Infinite Flux decorate their heathen temple to the ’70s a little differently than Blood Ceremony, and vis à vis BÖC, I don’t think that temple much resembles the inside your local casino. Infinite Flux achieve veneration without nostalgia by sowing every song on Infinite Flux with a seed of modern pagan heaviness.
I haven’t lived in this place for very long, but I can say that there is a color of green in the forests here which exists nowhere else. “Solar Sacrifice” (track 2) helpfully explains the local custom of offering a blood sacrifice to this color, so I’m glad I listened to it, because the sign at the park entrance totally dropped the ball on telling me I was supposed to do that. More to the point, I didn’t bring my headphones when I went for a run in Puget Creek last weekend, but I could still hear Infinite Flux at the bottom of the gorge. And you know why? Because the moss on the trees makes the same sound. And let me tell you something else, in case you’ve never been to Tacoma. The moss here is really, really loud.
My only problem with Infinite Flux by Infinite Flux is that it does not have a song called “Infinite Flux” with a chorus that goes “infinite flux.” Didn’t that used to be mandatory for full-length debuts down here? I don’t know, maybe it’s not mandatory — see what you think:
Whatever you think, wherever you are, click here to hear Infinite Flux on Bandcamp.