I never asked my parents what music they liked growing up. For one, they are not avid music listeners, but I doubt they had much choice experiencing their 20s in the Soviet Union of the 60s, in the heart of communism. The rest of the civilized world was a much different matter, and I want to believe they would have been into Woodstock, psychedelia and hippy movement given a chance. One always wants to believe in his parents being associated with the most idealistic progressive movement of the time, and not just being ordinary folks.

The Devil’s Blood (of which I have zero information) are a transplant from that era. Only they exist today, making their psychedelic doom rock not a parody and cheap copy of the past. Instead, they use it for inspiration to craft their own story. And what a story it is. One would never believe that these LSD fumed, Jefferson Airplane and Roky Erikson reminiscent tunes revolve around the most occult of lyrics. Buried in our own stereotypes we expect the call to Satan be steeped in dripping blood, blastbeats and corpsepaint. Instead, we get jangly 70s guitars, understated drums locked into steady unwavering rhythmic patterns, a little synth touch, female siren voice dissolved into all this nutty, off-the-deep-end atmosphere, beckoning to the listener in the way Lady Lust Lilith would. Intrigued? Add to it catchy as a mousetrap, even if simple, melodies and you can understand why I was hooked.

Lopping them off, one after another, all chips from the same psychedelic rock block, The Devil’s Blood can be steady and pleasant (The Yonder Beckons), full of mysterious aura pierced from within by a vocalist (House of 10000 Voices) or bring a touch of discord and dissonance on Feeding the Fire with Tears and Blood. Then all of a sudden they can firm up the song’s spine, marching, tongue squarely in cheek, lyrically speaking, as on Christ or Cocaine. Sometimes the vocals broadcast through some sort of the vocorder device, coming to us from the Left Hand Path land, but in the case of The Devil’s Blood that realm is full of fuzzy, consciousness altering substances and weird occult humor.

To those who would call The Devil’s Blood songs “too simple”, the band goes into one unforgettable twisting instrumental guitar foray at the end of The Anti Kosmik Magick erasing all doubts. The closest reference to The Devil’s Blood I have heard recently is Swedish Horisont, another band which never left the late 60s – early 70s, but The Devil’s Blood fondness of the dark arts sets them apart in that regard.

Maybe I was on the weird slant this week, or I am feeling the mid-life crisis having turned 40 today, but two albums I listened to the most for this batch of reviews are non-traditional, not belonging directly to any modern genre. Yet, both have distinguished themselves with interesting experience they provided for my psyche. The Devil’s Blood The Time of No Time Evermore is one of them.