Album Review: Moonseeds, Moonseeds
A field recording of insects begins 21-minute opener and longest track (immediate points) “Earth” on the self-titled debut from Moonseeds, but it isn’t long before the resonant, duly pastoral wandering guitar of Lex Waterreus begins to unfurl a sunrise of tone. Waterreus, known for his work in Australian heavy psych rockers Seedy Jeezus, as well as for his retro-styled graphic design, is soon joined by cymbal washes and gentle toms from Dave “Sula Bassana” Schmidt and, gradually, the exploratory bass of “Komet Lulu” Neudeck. When Moonseeds‘ Moonseeds was first recorded, reportedly in 2018 after Seedy Jeezus finished a European tour, both Schmidt and Neudeck were still members of Electric Moon — the former currently has a Sula Bassana live band going and is always doing numerous other projects and collaborations, while the latter has founded Worst Bassist Records and just released an album with a new band, The Barren Room; it’s unknown just how forever-done Electric Moon are –and with additional effects from all as well as organ and Mellotron, a recording and mix from Schmidt and vocals from Wattereus, the three-song/41-minute long-player might be a one-off, but if so, it’s one with noteworthy persona.
Comprising all of side A, “Earth” (21:10) gives way to “Sun” (7:12) and “Moon” (12:58) for the vinyl’s second side, and between the three of them, the expanse seems a little broader in scale than the 93 million miles of one astronomical unit can really account for, but is still less about space than the cosmic soul residing therein as manifest in Waterreus‘ soloing. He is a classic lead guitarist, and given the opportunity by the mellow rhythmic backdrop of “Earth,” he does not miss the opportunity to go, go, go where the fretboard seems to want to go, setting a hypnotic and winding but distinctly his own course as the chirps continue even amid the slow-mo scorch around 11 minutes in, bluesy shred and crash cymbal hitting a crescendo that carries forward in a build of swirl and effects filling out the mix with slow undulations and a thudding beat beneath that find their own evolutionary path across the next few minutes so that the change when Schmidt moves off the cymbals at around the 17-minute mark is striking and the howls of guitar stand out in a different, lonelier way headed into the comedown.
The bugs have been at it the whole time, and as “Earth” quiets down, that becomes even more apparent — visions of post-apocalyptic sci-fi in the six-legged insectoid post-human inheritors of the planet — and gentle repetitions of the guitar line lead the way out with some subtle flourish layered in, then are gone. Of course, as it makes up half the record — which was mastered by Eroc (Grobschnitt; he’s billed as “krautrock legend Eroc,” and fair enough) — “Earth” is an inevitable focal point of Moonseeds, but side B has its own statement to make in pairing “Sun” and “Moon.” If you want to think of it as a question of perspective, perhaps we’re on “Earth” with a clear view of the “Moon” and the “Sun,” which is millions of times larger than either of the others and hot enough to fuse hydrogen into helium, but the shortest piece here, at further remove as the others orbit around it. It is distinguished by a sense of melancholy even before Waterreus dares to add a human voice to the proceedings. The open reaches in the mix are complemented by a line of organ that threads through quietly, while the drums and the effects-laced voice both seem farther back.
There were recordings done in 2023 — Seedy Jeezus were back in Europe — in addition to what had been put to tape in 2018, and I don’t know if that’s part of what has allowed “Sun” to become more of a song than a jam, but its resonance extends to the emotional even before it heads to the midsection, somewhere between Led Zeppelin at their least-coked and King Crimson at their most fluid, but not really either of them. Mellow space rock, maybe, if you need a genre tag, but in the hearing it’s more about the presence of the keys and the wistfulness of the guitar. They’re not melodramatic or over-the-top, but in a third of the runtime, they manage to foster an impression apart from “Earth” — the vocals help the distinction, but aren’t the only source of it — and put the aforementioned soul of Waterreus‘ guitar to a particularly expressive use; not quite shooting for “Maggot Brain” territory, but definitely “Maggot Brain”-aware. The finish is a little janglier, but that it’s preserved rather than faded out adds to the organic feel of the entirety, making it believable that the entire proceedings were made up on the spot.
And with these players, they may have been. “Moon” begins around the guitar and unfolds quickly with an uptempo-by-comparison groove while maintaining the peacefulness that has been overarching throughout. Neudeck‘s fuzzed bass holds together cyclical low end as the drums turn back through measures and the guitar leads the build — it’s the stuff of power-trio traditionalism, wrought with individualized purpose. Right after four minutes in, Waterreus seems to propose a more active stretch, and Schmidt and Neudeck are immediately on board, which makes for a quick, easily-missed example of the conversation happening between players throughout Moonseeds, the way the material moves, allowing everybody space in a mix that’s wide enough to hold all of them and keyboards besides.
The finale, instrumental in its first half, finds itself in willful repetitions through the midsection before the drums and bass drop out and the vague swirls of vocals, maybe synthesizer, and such are established. The guitar comes back bright and joined by organ (at least I’m hearing one) for a worthy apex and subsequent noisy ending, after which they’re gone like they were never there in the first place. It’s hard to know with a project like this if it’s something that will or would ever happen again — Neudeck and Schmidt aren’t in a band together anymore and Waterreus lives halfway around the world; it’s clearly not conducive to weekly rehearsals — but as a listening experience, it’s understandable how these recordings might have held on in the back of the mind for six years before coming out. They capture a special moment in the studio and build around that central, maybe-improv foundation and hold a character that is their own. I wouldn’t hazard to predict whether or not there’s more in reserve for future release or whether or not these three will ever be in the same space again, but even if not, that does nothing to detract from the immersion and the light they offer here.
Moonseeds, Moonseeds (2024)
Echodelick Records on Facebook
Echodelick Records on Instagram
Echodelick Records on Bandcamp
Tags: Australia, Blown Music, Echodelick Records, Electric Moon, Germany, Moonseeds, Moonseeds Self-titled, self-titled, Sula Bassana, Sulatron Records
