Spine of God

The metal album for people who hate metal albums. A glorious and unapologetic celebration of pure indulgence, Spine of God is the ultimate stoner goof, a brilliant satire of headbanger culture so pitch perfect that it's almost tempting to take it at face value. Bearing the warning "It's a satanic drug thing...you wouldn't understand," the record is a complete mind-f*ck -- the production is positively viscous, a hallucinatory sludge of echo-drenched vocals, bone-rattling drums, and reverbed guitars which seem to stretch on into infinity; frontman Dave Wyndorf is like a shamanic idiot savant floating in a sea of bongwater, growling proclamations like, "If Satan lived in heaven, he'd be me" in the midst of deadpan fantasy freakouts which name-check every teenage metalhead staple, from Led Zep to Playboy to whippets. (There's even a toweringly psychedelic ode to everyone's favorite room deodorizer, "Ozium.") Monster Magnet's genius is that their music speaks directly to the audience it's poking fun at -- Spine of God's sheer sonic intensity is brain-warping stuff even without chemical additives, and its themes of sex, drugs, and evil are so hilariously over the top that it's impossible not to be charmed by the absolute mindlessness of it all. No matter what, proof positive that the road of excess leads anywhere but the palace of wisdom.