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Motorpsycho was by far the most riff-ready, balls-out, we've-come-for-to-rawk-your-mama's-daughters psych band to play the festival, and they were more akin to early '70s Black Sabbath than the perceived Terrascope sound (the definition of which is still open to debate as far as I can tell). We're talking long-hair head-bangers with black t-shirts and licks aplenty laying down hot and heavy grooves for the restless masses. It was the perfect band to place in the early evening, sending out a wake-up call in the event that people had begun to rest their eyes. Anthemic rock songs were played with appropriately mind-bending solos while their drummer made some of the most entertaining faces of the weekend (you know what I'm talking about, the way drummers will have this open-mouth expression of mock surprise on their face just before crashing their cymbals or toppling their toms without warning). Motorpsycho went all out for their full set, one of the few bands to actually eclipse their given 45-minute time slot, but there was never a dull moment. Personally, I wish there had been more bands like this on the weekend's bill to compensate for a few of the listless acts that seemed to ride the coattails of critical acclaim into their positions of prominence.

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Philip Smoker