The “gateway to the stars” passes through galaxies of sequins and vitriolic refrains made to order for cosmic dancers, quoting T. Rex. If in the acclaimed previous record, Blisstonia, to predominate was the all-around exploration and reworking of the psychedelia of the old times, playfully remastered and twisted in the footsteps of Flaming Lips and Ariel Pink, here Weird Bloom leaves out the post-hippie aesthetic to embrace also on the strength of the valuable and consolidated advice of Don Bolles, former The Germs an idea of hard and raw rock,
more material, fuzzy, without frills and thoughts. Leopard jackets and washed-out jeans take the place of lysergic freak tunics in a 10-track journey into the most visceral glam, made of timeless riffs and iconic titles like I’m a Razorblade, Saturday Night Is Breaking and Dum Dum
Boogie.
Behind the scenes of the album is an almost philological desire to exactly recreate that mood: We used to make the first takes, I’d send them to Don Bolles and to some maniacal vinyl-finding friends to get feedback on the veracity of the sound. Because the sound didn’t
convince me, it was always too contemporary. It took a long time to find that balance point, and when you find it, you have to holdon to it very tightly. Rock’n’roll is rather a state of mind to maintain, a different level of consciousness.
So forget the arty, intellectual and decadent side of Bowie and Roxy Music, Stargate’s style is massively animated by Marc Bolan’s boogie, Gary Glitter’s kitschy poses, the glittering hard rock of the Sweet and the proto-garage of the Troggs, in a triumph of references pervaded with pure love for an era that no longer exists, but whose immortal and carefree attitude we can still, fortunately, enjoy in a little rock gem like this.