Seeds from the Furthest Vine by Mordecai

The tenth hour of endless sagebrush shuffles past, void of movement save for the asphalt dancing in the heat, a thin, gray mountaintop standing as distant as ever before. From this cracked clay earth arises Seeds from the Furthest Vine by Mordecai, an even lower fidelity spin on the experimental folk style of Lou Reed that expands western rock to western proportions. Live-recorded, repetitive guitar riffs set the horizon deep in the distance, as nearly-spoken vocals and a smattering of energetic riffing from guitars, organs, and auxiliary percussion populate this vast space. As our eyes adjust to the blinding light of the desert and our minds tire of endless lonely junipers, however, self-destructive, maddening thought loops infiltrate our experience, tainting our view with detuned organ drones, aggressively strummed, blown-out guitar, and increasingly anxious vocals that fight for air in this tightening lo-fi space. The existential dread of a desert planet looms, sending our feet slamming down on the gas to get us somewhere, anywhere, where the vast, empty, dead heat of the future feels even a little less imminent.