PowerSolo and Creatures of the Sun Reviewed
PowerSolo – My Songs
When you watch the news showing the press conferences of presidents and prime ministers, you are, most likely, hearing the words of psychopaths who are smart about disguising their true selves. When you listen to the radio play the same playlist for the hundredth time in a row, you are likely hearing singing performed by colossal egomaniacs.
It’s just how it works. The history books are filled with these kinds of people, and there’s no good reason for any sane, happy man or woman to ever want to have their name added to a history book in the future. Ego makes the world go around. Sting is a man of colossal talents, sure. But if you ask Kim Kix of PowerSolo, not one for self-deprecating humour or much modesty.
“My Songs” is inspired by Sting’s recent reworking of his tunes, and specifically by the title of the project. PowerSolo’s tune, on the other hand, is a loose, bluesy garage-rock number where guitars mumble and scream over lines in which a singer-songwriter explains to his band the amount of colossal luck that has befallen them for being able to exist in this great creator’s orbit. Songwriters everywhere might chuckle, but likely not Sting.
Creatures of the Sun – Kaleidoscope
We could all learn a thing or two from the rock musicians of the 1960s. No, I’m not suggesting we bring back the tie-dye shirts and round-shaped, purple glasses into fashion. I’m not even advertising for the kind of chemically charged hobbies that make one get excited about 20-minute guitar solos and lyrics plucked out from the Tibetan Book of the Dead.
All I am saying is, give happiness a chance. Or, at the very least, keep alive the possibility that it might exist. In fact, don’t close the door on any possibility, and be ready to soak in any experience and let the road take you where it may. That’s what Creatures of the Sun are telling themselves and all the world that wants to listen.
“Kaleidoscope” is imbued with the philosophy of the Summer of Love, but sounds like the kind of garage-rock number made inside of a modern, high-tech studio. It’s a tune that owes its swagger not just to the Beatles, but to retro revival groups like the BJM, who’ve now become veterans in their own right. It’s a shimmering, fuzz-driven song about the things that may still be waiting for us if only we give them a proper chance.
