"Door Of No Return" sets the tone immediately. There’s no warm-up, no mercy. Vernon cuts straight into the strings, leaving scorch marks across the air. He isn’t playing; he’s dismantling, and MY guitar is now dismantled courtesy of the wall.
Then comes "The Haunting". The title is too neat, but the music earns it. The track breathes in smoke and exhales fire. Every note carries memory and menace. I can’t turn it off, though it makes me want to set fire to my own, now fully shattered guitar and walk away.
"Bronx Paradox" is chaos held together by sheer willpower. Brass stabs, glitching rhythms, guitars carving through the mess, it shouldn’t work, but he bends it into shape. Meanwhile, I’m stuck wrestling an instrument that refuses to obey me.
By "Black Fathom Five", the bitterness has taken over. It’s heavy, drowning and it’s smothering. Vernon yet again absorbs his guitar until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. I’ve never managed anything close.
"Hoodoo Telemetry" doesn’t offer comfort or answers. It just offers a mirror, and for me, that reflection is ugly and shows an obsession with a craft I can’t master, sharpened by the sound of someone who already has.
There’s no point giving it a number. This isn’t a scorecard. It’s a reminder that Vernon Reid is untouchable. I’m still staring at the embers of my own guitar in the fire.
Vernon has stated that this album’s "Like a piece of my all-over-the-place mind". That’s one fucked up mind and a stupidly talented one at that.
Words: Matt Denny.







































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