This appreared in an Italian magazine and was translated and sent to us. Hav and I thought it was great and hope you will like it too!

Wendy H
Head Heritage

Love Peace & Fuck review, Rockerilla october 2001

In the light of the recent events, it sounds appropriate and beneficial as ever to welcome this startling sonick outburst under the sign of the three magic words “love, peace & fuck”, openly directed to get rid of the wastes of ideological impositions to recover, after a radical treatment of electric cleansing, a more authentic spiritual dimension. At the commands of this mind-washing cycle, one perverted brat that rock canonised several years back, St. Julian Cope, a legendary character who keeps growing younger with each release, armed with a big calibre double-neck (guitar + bass) and with two travel companions of definite psychedelic attitude, Dogman (lead guitar) and Kevlar (percussion, or precisely “concussion”), both of Spiritualized breed. A similar savagery in terms of sound intensity and performing speed is nowadays unique in a freakbeat context, as this is what we’re dealing with: Cope’s wayward vocal skills are utilised at their lowest level, huge room is given to instrumental improvisation on an urging, regular rhythmic groundwork, garage-punk derived riffs are shoot in orbit by devastating lysergic rituals. Maybe not even the Alchemysts at the peak of their inspiration could presently conjure electric trips as exciting as these.

Available as a CD or double LP, “Love Peace & Fuck” is opened by the single issued at the beginning of this summer and timely recommended on these pages, “She Saw Me Coming”, teaming up with the subsequent “Get Off Your Pretty Face” in hinting at garage-psyche visions of reverberating energy, plentiful of effects and pedals and meanwhile solid and rocky. Sounds difficult to go beyond all this, and yet we are just at the appetisers: “Pagan Dawn” carves an anarchist and pacifist sunrise with the clumsy irreverence of Fugs and Deviants and the wah-wah diffractions of Jimi Hendrix, giving way to a deranged suite (“Odin’s Gift To His Mother”) proceeding from the angular riff of “Speed Kills”, a galactic blues for the fourth millennium, through the more hippie climate of “Shamanic 4 A.M.” and the “spiritualised” reverbs of “Consecrate The Fucker”, to the black and spirited (Hendrix-meets-the-Groundhogs…) blues of “Huntsabbers’ Ball”. The lysergic stomp of “Hairy Music”, conducted by St. Julian’s infamous gruff voice, marks only the halfway point of a programme still strong of “U‑Know!”’s granite doomy riff, of “You Take The Credit”’s stolid nihilist psyche punk (the Treatment, anyone?), of “Lughnasad”’s demented cheerfulness and even more of a fantastic over-twenty-minutes-long jam, “She’s Gotta Have It” (the “fuck” part of the show?), built on a seven note riff violently propelled from an earthy metal attraction to the take off towards endless routes. Our record of the month, to say the least…

Enrico Ramunni