-BUCKETFUL OF BRAINS
Rock critic Fred Mills's musings on Black Sun Ensemble
Jesus, Dadagaga and Me
Charlotte, NC, circa 1988... Most likely, the first time I heard of Tucson's Black Sun Ensemble was while thumbing through a pair of the UK's then-premiere psychedelic/underground zines, Bucketfull of Brains and Unhinged. Of the group's self-titled album (technically its second, but the first one to have any real distribution outside the Old Pueblo, courtesy of the eclectic tastemakers at Reckless Records), the former had wholeheartedly endorsed the "riveting potpourri of mesmerizing Eastern and Latinate riffs and ragas, amplified by 20th century technology and spiked with cruel bursts of feedback." The latter simply gurgled with awe, "There's fire coming out of these here speakers." Color me under the spell of Jesus Acedo, his mystical 6- and 12-string iconography, and his Ensemble.
From '89 to '91, three more mind-opening Black Sun albums would be released: Lambent Flame, Elemental Forces and the live/rarities collection, Tragic Magic. During that time I was hatching plans to move to Tucson, having fallen under the spell of not only the many talented bands based there, but the geography, climate and mysteries of the Lower Sonoran Desert itself. Of course, once you actually wind up living in a new place the grass, if not necessarily not greener, often takes on an entirely different hue from what you expected.
Tucson, AZ, autumn 1993: Having been here for about a year, I'd already seen several favorite local bands break up or otherwise turn out to be anything but the rock deities I'd imagined them to be, based on recordings and hyperbolic press reports, from afar. This was to be expected, I supposed, but in the case of the Black Sun Ensemble's crumbling-from the combined forces of rampant LSD abuse, Acedo's personal instability brought on by chronic bouts with schizophrenia, and a declining local fanbase despite all the overseas accolades-I almost felt like I'd been cheated. One day, who should wander into my place of employ, a new/used record store, but the erstwhile Mr. Black Sun himself, Jesus Acedo. Turns out he'd spotted me snapping pics of a local band in concert, and despite my insistence that I was only doing it for the personal archives, that I was anything but a professional photographer, he talked me into shooting a few rolls of film for the cover artwork for his soon-to-be released comeback album, Psycho Master El. Acedo was now calling his group the Black Sun Legion, billing himself, incidentally, under a bizarre array of monikers including Dadagaga and Jodie Cosmo. Just prior to the release of the record Acedo, depending on how you want to view things, either succumbed to the voices in his head or simply listened to a different set of them, resulting in his torching nearly 500 CDs and all of his musical paraphernalia. Later Acedo would claim that the album had been Satan's work, telling one interviewer that he "was like one of those little radio-controlled dune buggies and the devil was the controls," and that in order to serve God he had to cleanse himself. (Acedo even rang me up and asked me to burn both the negatives of the photos and a taped interview I'd done with him in preparation for a profile of the reincarnated Black Sun.) What was left of the ...El stock did come out early in '94, on long-running Tucson label San Jacinto, and while it had its moments of brilliance peeking through, listening to it was at times painful (particularly for me, having invested more than the casual fan's emotional stake), as much of Acedo's visionary fretwork was buried in a murky, cluttered mix, not to mention the vocals of Odin Helgison on several tracks which, where once provocative and enticing (an almost Celtic spice added to the Middle Eastern and Latin stew), now just seemed abrasive.
Tucson, AZ, spring 1999: By now I'd heard encouraging news several times over the intervening years, that Acedo, through the intervention of his family and his church, plus some very rigorous chemical fine-tuning of the synaptic areas by professionals, is well along the way to, if not outright recovery, a regulated and productive existence. And that he's playing music again, too. I'd seen some signs firsthand on occasion when Acedo would come into the record store and have me special order practically every title in the Mahavishnu Orchestra or John McLaughlin catalog. ("I've already got everything Jimmy Page ever did," was his stock answer-with a telltale mischievous smile, I might add-whenever I kidded him about his McLaughlin fetish.)
And then one night I finally get the reward I'd felt I been unjustly deprived of. Wandering into a local venue, who should greet my eyes and ears onstage but the new, improved Black Sun Ensemble. Jesus Acedo, on acoustic and electric 12-string, Mike Glidewell on electric bass and Manny Peters on tabla, bongo and percussion, working their way confidently through about a half-hour's worth of tunes every bit as potent and soul-piercing as those from nearly a decade prior. One moment Acedo was emitting ripples of sitar-like acoustic notes as if they were delicate crystal to be cradled and protected; the next, he's gripping his electric axe, spraying incendiary bursts of improvised sonic lava reminiscent (but not derivative) of, you guessed it, Mahavishnu John McLaughlin.
A couple of days later San Jacinto Records impresario Rich Hopkins hands me a cassette, informing me that he's completely overhauled the Psycho Master El tapes, renaming the remixed album Sky Pilot. The difference between the old version and the new is like the difference between McDonald's coffee with powdered creamer and a premium roast served up by a professional barrista and spritzed with the exotic flavorings of your choice. Acedo's fretwork literally burns with a virtuoso's very real passion, so focused and precise-even when charting epic freeform and psychedelic dimensions, Acedo seems to know how to keep at least one toe planted firmly on the ground-that recalling what the musician was going through at the original time of recording this material makes hearing these tunes all the more inspiring. There's no murk, just clarity; rhythmic cul-de-sacs which previously rendered some of the tunes thrashy have now, with the magic of multitrack wizardry, been opened up to let the material breathe; and yes, just in case you were wondering, those Odin vocals have been mercifully excised (or at least buried so deep in the mix that I can't hear them).
Additionally, some stellar bonus material now rounds out the disc. There's the limited-edition "Staying Power" single (a sweet love ballad, sung by Acedo himself and featuring piercing lead guitar from Hopkins) plus brand new B.S.E. recording "Sky Pilot Suite". This lengthy number is marked by the hypnotic interweaving of acoustic guitar and bass, plus deft ethno-tribal percussion, and joined by economical melodic flourishes from both the electric guitar (in full modal effect) and saxophone. It all hearkens back to the vintage B.S.E. sound and points the direction forward, offering old fans familiar touchstones with which to resume the love affair as well as giving a whole new generation of acolytes reasons to pick up the torch. The Lambent flame burns anew? It would seem so. Welcome back, Jesus.
Fred Mills