Space coyotes guide you on your quest for knowledge, preparing your mind for a state of readiness before the journey towards the small measure of inner peace we all seek. Descending from the heavens like wisps in the wind these guides exude an astral hue, enrobed in crystalline particles traversed from galaxies afar, blessed with a wisdom unseen in our fraction of the universe; these colours collide violently with their surroundings at first before engulfing these drab edges in their irradiant beauty for what seems like an eternity. The clarity of their presence is simultaneously bewitching and reassuring, a miraculous splendour never to be forgotten. But not all space coyotes will emerge with such grace and elegance: some will hurtle down from the skies, crashing into the planet and unleashing an intergalactic fuzz through intermittent shockwaves – these do not reduce buildings to rubble and eradicate all organic matter so much as they envelope them with their aura, spreading their wisdom far and wide. Horizon’s third longplayer, The White Planet Patrol, is one such entity; a cosmic driving force cruising with quasar-esque intensity, taking your mind on a wild ride down long-lost highways toward that most desired inner sanctum – and sounding cool as hell in the process.
Alicante’s Horizon are no strangers to the powers of the stellar playing fields residing beyond our comprehensive understanding of the universe, having eloped with the orbits of multiple galaxies since 2011. Flying sideways through space and time with home both in the rearview and always the final destination, this trio burn bright in the night sky whenever our paths cross, last seen back in 2016 with the psychedelic inferno that was Tales From Hydra Cluster. Of course with each visitation comes a welcome divulgence of interdimensional knowledge and sounds; this time round the raw kosmiche intensity burning at their core is stripped back upon reentry, revealing a crisp, scintillating vessel teeming with more hooks and wormhole-surfing licks than you can collapse binary systems with. Their dalliance with an early ’70s vibe here suggests they recently reemerged from the past, careening with the earth in the deserts of New Mexico and have wandered for some time; the remnants of space having mixed with the billowing dunes has given their sound an ecstatic urgency, a formidable desire for what lies beyond the open road. It is as if they are here to stay….
More refined and focused than ever before, The White Planet Patrol finds Horizon racing towards the glowering lights rising above, well, the horizon. The hum underneath Nicolas D’Andrea’s surging motifs taps into something far deeper than said motifs would have you believe, something inherently spiritual and primeval. From the initial impact of “The Backyard” the driving force propelling this quest grooves splendiferously down the same two lane blacktop taken by the likes of Nebula and The Jimi Hendrix Experience. But, as it becomes all too clear on the uproariously named “Death & Teddies” and “Straus Jr”, those sensibilities to leave you teetering on the void before reaching out for your hand at the last minute arise all too playfully; refusing to grant you immediate gratification Horizon force you to brave the seemingly unknown, allowing the anticipation to build before erupting once again, those colours radiating further into the background each time. And if the Solaris-tinged whirl of the mesmerising title track doesn’t snap you back into the clutches of space then the open-top cruise under the galactic-blessed skies that is “End of Utopia” will ensure your adventure abides to its trajectory.
On a record always chasing forward it might seem inappropriate to stop and search inwards with the ground in between your toes and the air tracing over your skin. Alas this is certainly not the case here as the rustic troubadour poetry of “L.A. (Honeymoon)” flickers with the luminescence of the aurora in the desert night, and bonus track “Idiots Game” lingers heavy and dense in the air, evaporated off the arid asphalt under a scorched sky. It’s in these moments of stillness, of absolute intoxication, the coyote stands in front of you, staring, its eyes uttering more than words ever could. But The White Planet Patrol is more than a mirage in the wilderness: it is a high velocity trip, a raucous record kissed with ingenuity, passion, and interplanetary smoke. As it revs its engine for its miraculous voyage D’Andrea, Paula Dominguez and César Tenorio rumble in unison, fused by their euphoric vibrations, and ride off into the setting sun.
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