I have nothing in the way of a biography for Lou & Co.. I really don't need one either. An album review doesn't always need to be about the person behind the music. Sometimes the music needs to speak for itself. Lou & Co.'s The Dynamite Man is more than capable of making a statment, even if the language it speaks in was invented in an alternative '60s where the free flow of LSD and other hallucinogens altered the very substance of reality. A plain where x and y have been reversed, and the vertical is now the horizontal. The dead dance and the living look on in quiet delight. In other words, The Dynamite Man sounds the way a Stanley Mouse poster looks. As far as I can tell, Lou & Co. is a tape project, but the cuts are so fluid it sounds like everything was arranged as part of a live orchestra. You have Ethieopan jazz guitars dancing around soulful, sunkissed melodies, in a lysergic reservoir of surfy, sublated and transposed grooves. All of it is remarkably solid and cohesive. Organic like the beaming presence of a sunflower. It will make you feel like William Onyeabor swaggering through an early incarnation of Burning Man trading stories and barbs with Robbie Chater of The Avalanches and a delegation from The Source Family. Your saliva is wine, wet is dry, time is a river, tomorrow is a knife, and only sound can slake thy soul's thirst. The Dynamite Man is an oasis in a land of illusion.
