This was originally issued on LP in a run of 1000 copies, released tocommemorate the Acid Mother Temple's tour of America in the year 2000.Wabana's digital reissue in the generic purple digipack reproduces theexact same tracklist as the original, with no extras: just five tracksexcerpted from live shows at various venues across the land of the(mostly) free.
Wabana
 
The recordings that comprise this album could only bedescribed as dodgy, often sounding not much better than a fan-recordedbootleg made on a wobbly old cassette deck. As per usual, AMT pushtheir noisy space-rock contortions into the red zone, which togetherwith the low-fidelity, high-distortion recording quality, makes for analbum that will be unappealing to all but the most committed listenersof blistering, atonal noise rock. Personally, I prefer other AMT livedocuments to this one, most especially the superlative Live in Japanreleased in 2002. Because of its relative brevity, this album must cutshort certain songs, which in the case of epic, monolithic tracks like"La Novia" and "Pink Lady Lemonade" is truly unfortunate. "Pink LadyLemonade" is to AMT what "Dark Star" was to the Dead: they perform itat nearly every gig, and there are as many variations and permutationson the song as there are times they've performed it. The relativelybrief variation included here only hints at the full power of the song,excerpting an eight-minute maelstrom of churning guitar noise andsquealing synthesizer from what was most likely a much longerperformance (it's not at all rare for performances of the song to last45 minutes to an hour). AMT's longform adaptation of the Occitainianfolk song "La Novia" is also included, with Kawabata Makoto pullingsome particularly fierce, ephochal solos from his much-abused electricguitar. However, without the enraptured vocal harmonies that normallybegin the song, this version feels stunted and incomplete. The Japanesepsych-rockers' insane rendition of "Acid Tokion 2000" is probably theonly track that recommends this album over past live documents, aheavy, acid-drenched wall of chirping, twittering electronics matchedwith Kawabata's senseless, masturbatory improvisations, falling overhimself as he races towards the song's orgasmic conclusion. Even withthis inclusion of this killer cut, I'd say it's a safer bet to seek outLive in Japan. That is, of course, unless you are a completist, in which case you should consider getting a life. 

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