In the midst of the psychedelic revival of the early 21st century, I pondered whether its emergence reflected the dearth of spirituality in the western world, and the desire of the segments of the population to search for meaning within an artistic context. “Bollocks”, retorted those around me – it’s a no more than a cyclical thing, and it’ll be gone, return and disappear as generations come and go.
Given the swing from psychedelia to screamin’, ball-huggin’, riff thrashin’ ’70s rock that’s happened in recent years, they’re right. Blues-based heavy rock, after all, took up the slack as the kaleidoscopic dreams of the ’60s psych generation gave way to the pummelling marriage of power chords, Marshall stacks and cocaine-fuelled egos that underpinned the Sabbath-Zeppelin generation.
It’s within that historical lineage that Redcoats can be found. Redcoats do a mean line in riffage – the power packed into the opening track Raven would get you from here to Birmingham quicker than Ozzy Osbourne could imbibe a gram of cocaine. On Death Of Ecstasy the spectre of Buffalo hangs just out of view; Mr Young is intense and indulgent, in that Jimmy Page double-guitar sort of a way. House Of Luna channels Soundgarden at their darkest hour, Evergreen charts a path from the pubs of Sydney to the grassy fields of the English heavy metal countryside and One Hundred Seasons could be the soundtrack for a century of suburban football biffo, where every fight is settled to the dulcet sounds of Rose Tattoo.
Serpent Charmer gets lost hanging out with Hawkwind without the right drugs, Running Games sprints and flails excitedly and the noodling and caressing of Worlds Between is an ideal foil to the pounding of the record’s final track, Mean Money. It’s a tough journey, albeit not always enlightening. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.
BY PATRICK EMERY
Best Track: Raven.
If You Like These, You’ll Like This: Soundgarden, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath.
In A Word: Riffage.
