Yoga comes out from nowhere, torch the night in iridescent fires and crawls back to its original nothingness.
What did you exactly hear? You don’t really know… For a brief moment (but maybe much longer than you think) you visited another world.
You held your breath and closed your eyes. Space and time were gone. And that’s when the visions started: you were standing at the thin edge of reality and the gate, in a slow fractal motion, opened wide…
In stupor, fear and amazement, you saw the whole universe swallowed by a giant voracious mouth, then regurgitated in a cacophonous orgy of sounds echoing from star to star, to the furthest galaxies where the unnamable waits in hunger. Then you got tossed back on earth, like a meteor of light, wandering as a ghost in the strangest places you’ve ever been… Some flooded basement or a putrid swamp perhaps? An abandoned industrial complex in the middle of nowhere maybe? Unless it’s an Enochian temple or the ruins of some long forgotten city, lost in the desert, bathing in moonlight… Shapes and sounds kept on changing until the very last second of your trip. When you finally woke up. Who knows what exactly happened?
“Megafauna” is a sonic Ayahuasca decoction where the notions of “black metal”, “ambient”, or even “songs” can be left at the door (and all due respect, I don’t think that a black metal equivalent of Throbbing Gristle works either, a musical equivalent of H.P Lovecraft meeting Don Juan on a Jodorowsky set maybe). Yoga is all of that and none of that. Yoga is a big mystery that challenges you to face the unknown. And when you think you finally get it, this fuzzy, lo-fi mantra goes deeper in its irrevocable march to the realms beyond. This album is a vortex.
And I’m so glad it exists.
More Yoga here.
Purchase here.
REPTOIDS
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