Monday

...blastin' through th'riffosphere comes hawkwind with all engines on th'tritanium silver machines locked down on full capacity thrust to reach to th'netherworld o'street level layabouts...recorded on th'tour o' albion in late '72 theres enough sonic bludgeonin'n sci-fi poetry to keep any cat grooved behind a fresh bonghit...th'sound o' underground ladbroke grove takin' th'message o'ultra cozmik stoned boogie to th'massed cats o' madness'n th'normal teeny citizens who somehow got caught up in th'moment when hawkwind were nearly a household word(for a few seconds they were actually pop stars with th' accompanyin' hit single to slyly put th'hippeeweirdness into th'daytime radio waves)...plenty o'wahwah string manglin'n skronky sax with basement electronix swirlin' in'n out o' th'stew as space stretches to th'infinite wobbly vibrations o'NOWness...dig th'tribal groove that spirals into tomorrow from th'inner bubblin' mind o'planet 'wind...

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