"Hymn of the Master" is the third in Camera Obscura's hopefully open-ended series of Black Sun Ensemble releases, and the one we like to think unambiguously signals their return to full powers, and significance to the here-and-now. 

In 1999, Camera Obscura released the "Sky Pilot" CD, which recovered an earlier doomed work "Psycho Master El" (1994) from oblivion by completely remixing and remastering it, and adding new material. In February 2001, Camera Obscura reissued the original self-titled Black Sun Ensemble recordings from 1985, which had been originally released on an undistributed private LP pressing. Both projects received acclaim from critics, and surprised the band by making it to onto the college charts around the States. His creative fire re-ignited, in the summer of 1999 band leader Jesus Acedo began to assemble a new band. Acedo recruited Eric Johnson and Otto Terrorist from Tucson's infamous acid rock trio Sun Zoom Spark, and Brian Maloney on saxophone from the multi-media ensemble, Spectro.

Black Sun's comeback included many regional performances, including one in January 2001, during which BSE was invited to share the stage with Mudhoney at Tucson's Club Congress. The new line up spent the first half of 2001 working on the first full-length Black Sun Ensemble recording in more than seven years. The project was recorded at BSE's own SlowBurn production studio, mixed by Duncan Hudson at Tucson's Tortuga Studios and the final mastering work was done by Giant Sand engineer, Craig Schumacher. The resulting "Hymn of the Master", with Jesus Acedo on guitar and vocals, Eric Johnson on bass, guitar, vocals and keyboards, Brian Maloney on saxophone, nickel clarinet and sitar, and Otto Terrorist on the drums, are quite extraordinary, and will turn perceptions of the band on their ear.

Fans of the past few releases - mostly instrumental - may be unsettled to learn that there are vocals on "Hymn of the Master". Yes, we declare it up front - Jesus Sings! Pavarotti he may not be, but his awkward, alien vocals become quite appealing after the first shock of exposure, and they are judiciously used - the record remains largely instrumental. The album is a exploration of all of the dimensions that BSE have traveled through since 1985. Acedo's guitar contains the familiar Hendrix and Page meet Ravi Shankar soul and virtuosity, and John McLaughlin is clearly an influence now also. The title track deposits trailer loads of Zeppelin damage on the listener, and detours through desert landscapes on the home stretch, showcasing Eric Johnson's sonic blues solo work. It also gives the opportunity to decide your with-them-or-against-them position on Acedo's vocals. "Bloody Mary" is a lurching dance of the dead - mescaline visions with layered ghost voices breaking into moments of vocal clarity that are more disturbing than the eerie abstractedness that precedes them. The thematically related "669" and "999" deal out more desert metal skull fractures, with monstrously drugged riffs offset against giant peals of progressive keyboard while submerged vocals fight to attain the surface. The sax and guitar call-and-response work is a highlight here, and these tracks swing like the innocent victim of a lynch mob. BSE have always constantly re-evaluated earlier work - "Celestial Cornerstone" and "Whirlpool Ocean" get fine new treatments. The sprawling keynote tracks "Captain Wormwood" and "The Beast" create fine acid rock meets free jazz conjunctions, but it's the final three tracks that strike us the most. All the jagged riffage and lurching schizophrenia of the first two-thirds of the record is replaced by compositions of great peace and resolution. "Love in the Heart of the Joyful" is a modal acoustic improvisation, sitar and tabla leading in a higher-minded improvisation with skyrocketing columns of electric lead. Its meditative and devotional qualities are picked up by the cosmic jazz of "Lamp Lady Vision". Finally, "Song for Precious" is elegiac, anthemic and exquisite - a hymn for closure. Are these last tracks the troubled Acedo's way of telling us he going to be alright, that he's pinned his demons to the floor? We don't know, but we like to think so.