Setting: James Wisdom's right shoulder

Angel: "James, this is the angel on your right shoulder. I've been fighting with the devil over on the left for about five years now, and I've finally broken free of his sinister grasp. Over these past five years, I've been tied fast-- with forces I cannot begin to describe to your mortal reckoning-- to the inner anvil bone of your ear. One of the devil's minions, a wench spindled of slick sinew, patrolled my imprisonment from a perch on the pestle. As we speak, the devil and his henchmen are on vacation in Brent DiCrescenzo's nether regions. I know not when they might return, so my time is precious.

"First, let me apologize about the hair. I'd have argued for something short-- close to the ears. Oh, and blast that devil for messing with your last Macha review! His barbed whispers obviously hit cochlea harder than Macha's wonderful thunder. When I heard the devil tell you to write that Macha's first record was composed of loops and samples, I nearly summoned the strength to shatter my bonds. I heard and felt the hypnotic, manmade sounds of guitar, bass, vibraphone, keys, and pumping drums trembling my bony prison. It was sweet reprieve from my sentence.

"But now I've been given the opportunity to right such devilish acts, for Macha have released another mystical record, just as I have won escape. Others of my shoulder- angel brethren have heard See It Another Way, and I've heard nothing but praise from them. Admittedly, they're a bit overly positive and kiss-ass, being shoulder- angels and all, but this music really is what we shoulder- angels want to hear.

"Trickling water, muffled laughter, dancing dulcimer, and a humming organ (the band's legendary "fun machine") quickly kidnap your soul on the opening track, "Riding the Rails," and flee to Macha's world of exotic foliage and dimly- lit basements. "Salty" then commences to pummel your gray matter into ambrosia under the wooden shoe- stomps of Balinese gods. Deep, fuzzy bass and thundering drums keep mortals in check with wrath, as layers of organ, dulcimer, vibraphone, and other gamalan goodies effervesce from the impact. Joshua McKay's breathy vocals puff sweet tension in the bellows. "The Nipplegong" pulses similarly with street- market intimacy. The hyper- chiming dulcimer and steel drum sting like a thousand bees until your skin is blissfully numb.

"Macha's vapors are captured tightly in Mischo McKay's thick, steady drums. They pound with incessant, skeletal strength. And just to show that they're not content to wander the Indonesian archipelago, collecting tools, Macha explore other international textures. "Between Stranded Sonars" drones with Celtic clangs, crying fiddle, and sultry slide guitar, single- handedly destroying Mogwai at their own game. Macha's crisp cacophony brings to mind My Bloody Valentine, if My Bloody Valentine were Louisville indie- rockers stranded in a South Pacific jungle after a spectacular plane crash. James, I'm telling you, the cover art alone is worth the price. And here's a little secret-- the kanji on the bottom of the cover translates to "ramen." Who would think that ramen packaging could be so beautiful? But then, finding divinity in the commonplace is Macha's unique skill.

"With that, James, I must flee. Just some real quick, good advice: hug a baby, sell your car, stop smoking so much damn weed, and quit watching all that WB."

-Brent DiCrescenzo