Totimoshi
are a trio of evil, dangerous hustlers from Oakland,
California, who sometimes dress up like cigar chomping South American
dictators who send their wayward flock out to cut people’s heads off. Or
something like that. Listen, I’m boiling away in a hot car at the moment,
slowly asphyxiating under a 100 degree July sun in the parking lot of
Trader Joe’s. I’m listening to this thunderous collection of twisty hypno-metal,
and that’s what it makes me think of – execution squads. Whether that was
Totimoshi’s intention or not is debatable, but just look at the evidence.
I mean, we got Spanish guitars doing crazy math here, we’ve got woozy
death-jazz rhythms, we’ve got skull-cracking military drumbeats, and all
the songs are about dying in one way or the other (“Float”, “Cellophane”,
“The Bleed”, “Oblivion”). There’s also plenty of yelling, as there always
is in these circumstances, and noise, and confusion, and a few shuddering
last gasps. Heavy breathing, too, although that might just be me. I really gotta get out of this car. Anyway, if you’re into arty,
pseudo-instrumental drug rock (think Karma to Burn) layered with thick
slabs of proggy stoner metal (think Stinking Lizaveta), then check out the
loopy ‘Mysterioso?'. Just don’t go into the desert with Totimoshi, as I
believe they mean you harm.
Totimoshi
are a trio of evil, dangerous hustlers from Oakland,
California, who sometimes dress up like cigar chomping South American
dictators who send their wayward flock out to cut people’s heads off. Or
something like that. Listen, I’m boiling away in a hot car at the moment,
slowly asphyxiating under a 100 degree July sun in the parking lot of
Trader Joe’s. I’m listening to this thunderous collection of twisty hypno-metal,
and that’s what it makes me think of – execution squads. Whether that was
Totimoshi’s intention or not is debatable, but just look at the evidence.
I mean, we got Spanish guitars doing crazy math here, we’ve got woozy
death-jazz rhythms, we’ve got skull-cracking military drumbeats, and all
the songs are about dying in one way or the other (“Float”, “Cellophane”,
“The Bleed”, “Oblivion”). There’s also plenty of yelling, as there always
is in these circumstances, and noise, and confusion, and a few shuddering
last gasps. Heavy breathing, too, although that might just be me. I really gotta get out of this car. Anyway, if you’re into arty,
pseudo-instrumental drug rock (think Karma to Burn) layered with thick
slabs of proggy stoner metal (think Stinking Lizaveta), then check out the
loopy ‘Mysterioso?'. Just don’t go into the desert with Totimoshi, as I
believe they mean you harm.