Sometimes we need a little fooling in our lives. We need something that is going to fully confuse us and partially trick us into thinking that we're somewhere other than where we are. It's hard to forget exactly where we keep our bed, where our pillow and toothbrush (the ones that smell like our hair and taste like our teeth and Colgate) rest, but those memories can be wiped out with the right combination of circumstances and the perfect touch. It's a logistical sleight of hand and it's one that we need to keep us from going positively mad.
Just dreaming that we're somewhere else isn't usually enough to get us there, but the sounds of the French four-piece, Chateau Marmont, transcend mere mind power and our limited ability to envision anything that's not been spread out in front of us, glaring and detailed. We can never do where we need to escape to justice. We think we've got a good idea of where we need to be, or what would make us happy, but there is too much evidence here to suggest that we're too often incorrect.
The band and its music are an odyssey that doesn't just put you in a different state or country, but instead it rearranges the state that you thought you were in and it catapults you out into the Milky Way galaxy, to reaches where you'll never get cell phone reception and you're dodging space junk left and right. It flings you into a bizarre sauna or whirlpool, where it sounds like Jim Morrison and The Doors are playing "Riders On The Storm" to a captivated, beautiful and stoned native society that thrives on and almost demands the energy of a temperate environment, a steady diet of margaritas and mysterious dispositions that beg for further questioning, just to get to the bottom of them. They aren't giving anything away.
It throws a whole lot of weightlessness into your body, slips it under your skin, into your drink and you're suddenly feeling yourself doing things and moving around in ways that you never had thought were possible. It's not like you to react the way that you're reacting and this seems to be perfectly alright. You've gone off the deep end, a dip into the nippy waters of a hijacked strobe light, but the view as you're sailing away is spectacular and there's a scent of perfume and expensive cigars in the air.