Listening to “Burning Down”, from Swedish band SVVAMP’s 2016 self-titled debut album, I picture myself wearing oversized headphones, lying on a shag carpet, chilling after smoking some weed. However, at about the 30-second mark, the trio — which includes Adam Johansson, Henrik Bjorklund, and Erik Stahlgren — kick it up a notch.
I find myself in the passenger seat of a late 60s Mustang in the middle of the night. White dash surface marks on a two-lane highway flicker by at the speed of sound. I can’t keep up with the infinite number of beats. A bright light appears. A spaceship? The body of the car peels away. The interior vanishes. The light dims and divides itself like an amoeba on approach. Now, two huge eyes dance with every known and unknown color of the universe, until I squint and close my eyes.
I think I just ingested acid rock.
You can learn more about SVVAMP here:
About the Curator - Jane Asylum
When my mother wasn’t walking around the house belting out early 60s’ girl-band lyrics, she was collecting compilation albums, specifically from K-Tel. She may not have had the most refined taste, but she enjoyed variety, or at least that’s what I recall. I poured over them all, preferring some sounds to others. And when I found the perfect song, I’d play it over and over until ready to perform my latest theatrical dance incarnation.
With my family all gathered on floral grey sofas in our basement apartment, I’d set the vinyl on the turntable of a brown fibreboard stereo and not-so-carefully lower the needle. It would pop, screech, and crackle before any music spilled from the weaved-wheat speakers. My toes would press, lift, and sweep through the blue-green shag carpet, my arms would flail, and the music would bass and treble through my soul.
I’m no longer that 6-year-old doing private-audience interpretive dance routines, but my passion remains just as intense. I have no special superpowers as a curator — just my love of sounds and lyrics that transport, transform, move, and make your body groove.