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Time isn't constant or concrete, It's made of color and shade, Time flows, blurs and fades away in dim morning
light, Time melts, And The Warlocks are the ecstatic, hazy, foreboding, holy tick tock of time that isn't anything
at all, For five albums, The Warlocks have lived in between and beyond minutes and hours, Sway to The Warlocks
live and loud and songs will drift and envelop each other like fog, Listen to the records and you'll hear soundtracks
to fuzz-freaked, bacchanalian stomps, pre-dawn city prowls, sleeping late with new crushes, and the elation and
exhaustion that wash in and recede deep in the wee hours, The Warlocks new LP The Mirror Explodes speaks
and whispers from all of these places, But where the band's last long player, Heavy Deavy Skull Lover, tweaked
time in a icy-cool, white-noise swirl that evoked a decadent lysergic night, this effort is disorientation through
a longer lens - pictures of luck, longing, losing, moods and fever dreams scrambled in the haze of near and
distant memory, On the eight songs of The Mirror Explodes, the band's signature amalgam of White Light/
White Heat attack, space panoramas, fuzz, melancholy, and melody is present and potent, But there is vivid
focus too, Throbbing bass lines, distant rolling thunder drums, and zombie rattlesnake shake are a heartbeat
of strange, ominous vitality, Guitars howl, slash and bounce like light, Bobby Hecksher's vocals sound oddly
alone and unsettlingly intimate all at once, And just when you think you understand the sum of these sonic
elements, they become something else entirely.