I forget how absolutely bloody brilliant The Jesus Lizard were. Brutish, dangerous, sleazy, perverse...yes. And then some. But also tenderly beautiful, the guitars going from a snarl to a shimmer in the blink of an eye. Like the best noir, they find emotional truth in both the kick and the kiss. It's just that bruises last longer than the trace memory of lips touching lips.
"I am certain of nothing but of the holiness of the Heart's affections and the truth of Imagination..." John Keats, letter to Benjamin Bailey (Nov 22, 1817).
"We become panoramic..." Kate Bush, "Nocturn" (Aerial)
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