The Witch And The Robot: On Safari
(ATIC)
Like a throwback to the early days of Hawkwind, Jethro Tull and other quintessentially British musical absurdists (even mythical speed metallers Sabbat), The Witch And The Robot deal in decidedly weird folk/prog fare (or should that be fayre), with enough quasi-mystical lyrics to embarrass a sci-fi convention. That said, it seems this particular bunch of prog-lovers, hailing from England’s Lake District, aren’t afraid to laugh at themselves, as even a cursory listen to the so-bad-it’s-kinda-funny opener ‘Giants’ Graves’ attests to.
Musically, they’re pretty impressive at times, and are capable of raising quite a racket when the mood takes them, like the psychedelic wig-out that lifts ‘The Beatification Of Thomas Aquinas’ above your common or garden musical dissection of a 13th century saint and natural theologian (what did we do in the days before Google?). On the flip-side, when they keep it gentle and acoustic, they make a passable folk ensemble, as on the ethereal ‘Rapture Of The Deep’, ‘The Puppeteer’ or the hugely enjoyable ‘The Best Free Show On Earth’, while ‘No Flies On Me (Ballad Of The Jam Head)’ takes the spirit of reggae and grinds it though a folk blender to reasonable acclaim.
Unfortunately, much of On Safari is let down by its lyrics and its more free-spirited extremes, like the ridiculous ‘A Crocodile Song’ and the execrable ‘Sex Music (Beef On Wax)’, a spoken word marathon that even The Velvet Underground in their heyday would have dismissed as a prog-rock gift too far. The Witch And The Robot have something interesting to say and to add to the 21st century musical canon: maybe if they find a producer strong enough to curb their worst excesses and unrestrained eccentricities, they can actually get it across properly.
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