Residual Echoes - Phoenician Flu And Ancient Ocean LP 2006

The title rules because it's awkward when spoken but beautiful when written. And that, in essence, is what you get on wax. It fits beautifully in your head, like remembering someone's silhouette in front of a setting sun, like you drew it with your hand and hung it in space. Residual Echoes sound like they only exist in my head, but somehow someone managed to record this and now I get to play it for people and tell them how amazing I think it is. Whereas I tell people about the noise in my head and they assume I'm being obtuse.
Speaking of obtuse, where did this come from? Oh, California. Somehow that makes sense. Nothing this screwed could come from, say, the Midwest. California is overwhelming because it's overwhelmed: too much culture, too much waste, too much coast, too much posse. It's as if, for about 45 minutes, these lovely kids felt the whole mess with their hands and took big gulps of the leftovers. My roommate and I sat enraptured & silent which hasn't happened since that big bug climbed up the heating vent and asked for a smoke.
Touchstones? I mean, yeah. I'd say any memorable, drippy noises made anywhere in the last 60 years. Sun City Girls leading the herd with Budgie and Dead C bringing up the rear. Wait, is that that one Frusciante back there? Shit, I haven't seen him in a minute. Wait, Suicide tagged in. Never too much magic bus. One of the best discs of last year. A trillion trillion stars.