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Star Struck Gutz

Astral Underground

Label: The Cave of Legends
Released: 2025
Duration: 00:39:39
Views: 100

Tracks

The Hardest hidden Caravan Ever; City University; Doug and Molly; Magnum; Sa'bah; Star Struck Gutz; Your Father is/was a Vampire

Personnel

Album Description

A cymbal crashes, an ancient beat begins, and two notes from a flute, low and foreboding, signal to the fearless among us, prepare for liftoff! So begins Star Struck Gutz, Astral Underground’s third album in as many years, blasting off from its subterranean launch pad into the farthest reaches of space, inner or outer, the band has yet explored. Written and recorded in “The Cave of Legends” basement studio in Enosburg Falls, Vermont, during the spring and summer of 2025, this seven song cycle sees the musical trio of Margaux Simmons, John Notaro, and Ben Maddox take their signature sound of celestial flute and rock-infused jazz in adventurous new directions. Musically, we’re in excellent hands, but strap yourself in: the trip is not for the wary.

Setting the tone right away is the addictively propulsive “The Hardest Hidden Caravan.” As Margaux’s flute dances to West African rhythms over an ominous drone, basslines pulse like alien heartbeats and spastic synths beep like control panels desperately trying in vain to tell us something. Captured live in one inspired take, it is both a bold opening statement and an impressive addition to the band’s repertoire.

“City University,” built around a repeated earworm of a riff, dreamy interludes, and punchy grooves, spirals into the ether at the end, where the specter of John Cage expounds the pleasure of sound for sound’s sake, devoid of meaning. It’s a powerful moment, hearing that human voice so deep in outer space, like picking up some improbable transmission on a handheld radio while staring out the spacecraft window.

Upon looking into the void and seeing Earth for the first time, fragile and sublime, many astronauts report a powerful emotional experience known as “the overview effect.” “Doug and Molly,” the shortest track on the album, gives musical expression to this idea. Complete with shimmering cymbals, lullaby flutes, a rain stick, and Ben’s gorgeous lap steel guitar, it’s a brief respite filled with quiet contemplation built around a simple melody that evokes the universal beauty and interconnectedness of all things.

The next two songs return us to the underground in a sort of “meanwhile, back at mission control…” moment. Both tracks showcase catchy hooks, meaty arrangements, and a rocking physicality that ground us squarely in the middle of the album, reminding us that the music we’re hearing, no matter the heights it transports us to, was made by human beings on terra firma. “Magnum,” the album’s most muscular offering, holds us down with a pounding rhythm while Ben’s Flying V hunts each chorus like a bird of prey, stopping to feast in the middle just long enough for John and Margaux to trade solos in a playful dialogue.

“Sab’ah,” Arabic for seven, celebrates the power of this lucky, spiritual number, first with a propelling, ⅞ full-band groove intent on hypnotizing, then in a triptych portrait of their individual talents: Margaux’s flute flitting around the room, darting up the stairs and out the door, perching on a wire to sing full-throated over the street below; Ben keeping easy time on his foot pedal bass while cracking codes on his keys; and John attacking his kit in a ferocious assault, one part courtship display, one part temper tantrum, hell-bent on getting something off his chest.

If you thought there was little light in the underground, “Star Struck Gutz” takes us to the very edge of the universe, where sounds bend, melodies implode, and rhythms don't exist. This journey requires no spaceship, however, as the band plays cosmic medium, channeling from deep space whatever it picks up into color, timbre, and texture. We listen, gazing towards the heavens, struck dumb by the stars above, until something primordial awakens inside us, instinctively calling us home, back through time and space to the moment of creation. The band has explored this sort of nebulous soundscape on previous offerings, but never before have they plugged so directly into the void. Densely layered and alien, it is a haunting centerpiece of the album.

The final track, “Your Father Is/Was a Vampire,” with its doom-filled bass, anxious flute, and twinkling stardust Rhodes, captures the nervous energy of a reentry mission, as our capsule tears through the atmosphere and splashes down in a climatic return. When a single luminous note rises near the end over a calm sonic sea, we’re free to throw open the hatch and — floating in that liminal space at dawn under the paling stars, thankful to be home — see the world reborn. Ten minutes into their previous album, Astral Underground affirmed that sunsets are sacred. In the final moments of their new record, as organ, bass, flute, and drums sing together in one glorious hymn, we’re reminded that sunrises are too.

Dan Clarke

Album uploaded by John Notaro