AMON DÜÜL: EXPERIMENTE (1983)
1) Special Track Experience No. 1; 2) Special Track Experience No. 2; 3) Special Track Experience No. 3; 4) Special Track Experience No. 4; 5) Special Track Experience No. 5; 6) Special Track Experience No. 6; 7) Special Track Experience No. 7; 8) Special Track Experience No. 8; 9) Special Track Experience No. 9; 10) Special Track Experience No. 10; 11) Special Track Experience No. 11; 12) Special Track Experience No. 12; 13) Special Track Experience No. 13; 14) Special Track Experience No. 14; 15) Special Track Experience No. 15; 16) Special Track Experience No. 16; 17) Special Track Experience No. 17; 18) Special Track Experience No. 18; 19) Special Track Experience No. 19; 20) Special Track Experience No. 20; 21) Special Track Experience No. 21; 22) Special Track Experience No. 22; 23) Special Track Experience No. 23; 24) Special Track Experience No. 24.
Some sources list this album, released more than a decade after the musical career of Amon Düül had been wisely laid to rest, as a bootleg; others include it in officially sanctioned discographies, and, having not the temporal resources to investigate the controversy, I can only say that I do not care, on any grand scale, but that it would, perhaps, make sense to say a few words about it anyway, to scare off the irrationally brave people.
Basically, these are the «dregs off the dregs» from the proverbial jam session: sixty-five more minutes of lashing, crashing, bashing, and thrashing. The only difference from Disaster is that most of these «special experiences», for which nobody even bothered inventing specific titles this time around, are relatively short, from one to three minutes in length. Some may find it a consolation; I find it a travesty, since slicing these percussive blasts into thin strips pretty much loses the only remaining saving grace of the original Amon Düül — their ability to genetically engineer your brain if the drumming and strumming are left alone for a prolonged period of time. These here little pieces are blatantly stripped of that power, each one cutting off abruptly, without even being provided a chance to fade away, at what looks like completely random intervals. Even on those few (two or three) occasions where I, involuntarily, would find myself slipping into the groove, this was only to be followed by the very unpleasant feeling of having the groove suddenly jerked from under you, and that can be almost as bad as a case of coitus interruptus.
There does, however, occur a big, big laugh here if you make it all the way to Special Experience No. 20 — which basically sounds like someone trying, over the course of one minute, to master the chords for 'Louie Louie' but... failing. Pretty much tells you everything you should know about the musical level of Amon Düül. Actually, a few scattered tracks here and there offer a bit of folksy jangle, as a relief from the usual choppy rhythm chords, but it's not as if throwing in a simple flourish here and there had any actual meaning in this context.
I'd like to give the album a thumbs down, but I can't — not before the effect of listening to it is properly tested in a psychiatric ward; after all, similia similibus curentur, if you pardon my Latin. We can only hope that, with Experimente, the well had truly run dry. If anyone ever happens to fall upon more leftovers from this accursed session (or, God forbid, come across recordings of other similar rituals), I will just have to pretend that the unfortunate indie label that will dare release them is run by Nazi pedophiles, and the Reviewer's Code says I can't deal with such types.
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