Lars Gotrich

The mosh pit is a moving masterpiece. In the sweat-stained mass, you engage a lineage that extends not just to Bad Brains but to a history of collective motion in riots, protests and crowds — motion that seeks change, devotion, sacrifice, sick stage dives. Step back from the vortex and the scene becomes psychedelic, a surging splatter of limbs and hair. A body falls, the mass makes space. A microphone drops from the vocalist to the audience, the mass moves forward.

Drowse is not only apt for the hazy ambience that Kyle Bates makes with creative partner Maya Stoner, but the medicated state from which it was inspired. Following a mental breakdown, Bates was originally prescribed antipsychotic drugs, and several unmedicated years later, his anxiety returned in heavy doses. His relief came in the namesake of this song, he tells NPR:

Bambara's post-punk has always had a sleek sort of menace to it, a taut rhythm section wrapped in psychedelic noise. It's mesmerizing to listen to, and seeing the band live is an experience wrought from sharp curves and frontman Reid Bateh's rapturous baritone.

The year is 3089. The world looks something like that scene from Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure where society meditates on the most outstanding music of a singular artist. But instead of smoove Van Halen licks, it's The Body, the extreme doom-metal duo who, by this point, have downloaded their brains into cyborgs.

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