Kyuss me!

A while back I stumbled upon one of those music bands that is either the exception that proves the rule, or the encounter that forces you to re-evaluate your preferences. 
Not having any recollection of appreciating anything remotely similar to the lets-get-high-and-scream-incomprehensible-stuff music of Kyuss (this is a grave simplification of the multi-dynamic band) I found that I was immediately rather captivated. Now, I will not deny that this might be the consequence of some, to me still oblivious, awakening of suppressed anger. Yet, I do not really feel particularly mad, in neither sense. 
To be fair, I was lullaby-ed into infatuation by the dreamy creamy softness of the bittersweet Space Cadet, which does not sound very different from at least some entries in my playlist. With its “over-analyse-me”-friendly lyrics, the ingeniously executed guitar riff and sensual “shoulder-shake”-provoking bongo drumming, it does fit rather well into my average moody-dance mode. However, after checking out some more songs, a completely different tone is presented. 
Following up is Demon cleaner, which is exuding religiously loaded themes. The cleansing from demon possession and the direct connection to Jesus in the final sentence “I am the only way”, forces the connection to bands like Creed and P.O.D. Listening more tentatively it feels like it might be a metaphor for drug abuse, something no one could deny to be a plausible interpretation. Yet still unsatisfied I ask the allmost-knowing-Google and the actual meaning is revealed. Fabulous awesomeness! – the song is about brushing your teeth. Now while I agree that brushing your teeth belongs to some of the day most important moments, making this analogy is an exaggeration even I could not have pulled of. While I am mighty impressed I cannot help feeling it might have been a bit much…
For this blogs purposes my fascination and song-reviews ends with Shine in which the lyrics basically goes (I think…): “SIIIILEEENNNCEE!!!! x 10″ (which BTW. is quite funny if it is the “correct interpretation” – I mean: why don’t you just shut up yourself, Mr singer-dude?) in the most under-worldly desperation-worthy hoarse screaming, followed by what I expect is the exhausted breathing necessary for the singer to catch his breath.
I am not sure if I am more fascinated by my fondness for this, to me, rather unusual band, or if I am fond of it because it holds a fascinating diversity I rarely encounter. 

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