I don’t think I can put it any better than the band puts it themselves. According to Toronto based quintet: “The Holy Gasp is a damn-the-Man beatnik-revival conga revolution, a boxcar and a jug of wine, a groove daddy, and the farthest thing from a king size bust! We make music for fans of theatrical, off-centred, darkly comical, genre-defying entertainment, and we try and make it all sound like a bunch of hopped-up jazz junkies singing Surfin’ Bird with a bad case of the shits. Our forthcoming LP, “We Really Mean It,” is scheduled to release early 2015.”
“The Last Generation Of Love” comes across like The Mars Volta wearing berets after reading too much Kerouac. It’s an intense, rhythmic, stream of consciousness diatribe that spews forth with absolute and complete reckless abandon. Congas are pounded, the upright bass takes the melody for a walk, while saxophone punctuates the entire endeavour. Quirky, odd, bizarre, unique; there really is not an adequate adjective to describe this cacophony. Impressively, regardless of the seemingly mental approach the band take to their music, there is always a hook to keep the whole boat afloat.
Equally batshit crazy and completely awesome.