Castle Storm Label: Infinity Cat Recordings
As the air cleared, and unicorns started flying out of my ass, this was the music that sounded in the heavens. This is magic time. It’s like they knew what I was thinking. No other album in future fragile millennia will inflict the kind of psychological malaise as this frighteningly brilliant little nugget of awesome. Do you want to know what I just did? I took four gobs of peanut butter, a hammer and a roll of electrical tape, and sealed this fucking album in my CD player. Now I’m licking the peanut butter off of my fingers. Now I’m smearing the really hard-to-get stuff on my pants. Now my pants smell like peanut butter and drool. Was that a xylophone? Damn straight it was!
Ground rules must be laid right now, and I’m scared and confused as to why this duty has been bestowed upon me but it is an honor I must uphold. Right out of the gate, if the question “Who the hell is Jeff?” crossed your mind, STOP READING! Sorry. Wait, are you still reading? Seriously. I said “they” at the very beginning of this review. Jeff is a band. Actually, that’s completely inaccurate. Bands no longer exist. Band is a dirty word. Bands are a historical scar on the face of modern music. Jeff took away everything you knew, and you must now reprogram the way you think. Start backwards. Also, know that they are brothers. Two of them and no more, to my knowledge.
This particular capsule of the genius of Jeff is called Castle Storm. But who cares? It won’t be hard to keep track of this release once you throw all of your other albums away. You won’t even be sad about it. It will feel totally natural. It will feel like being reborn or hunkering down for a solid and wholly cleansing dump. And you will all join hands to let the light in (after you wash them, you dirty heathen). This light may guide you to buy other records by Jeff, and that will be rewarding. The purchasing of other albums from the CD gospel of Jeff will not be frowned upon by the mother from which the brothers were born. Instead, it will be viewed as an offering of good, and will please the brothers.
And when we arrive, it’s raining. It’s raining the sound of a happy rain. We dance in the rain, which smiles gleefully on spaceships and snow globes. In the distance, a battle ensues. We are the men. We and only we are the keepers of the unicorns. And under the shadow of castles the glorious sound of victory arose under a watchful eye. As the air cleared and unicorns started flying out of my ass, this was the music that sounded in the heavens.