If Quentin Tarantino ever decides to make a spaghetti Western set in Bangkok, Salin’s Rammana is calling dibs on being the soundtrack. This album is a Tarantino fever dream of psychedelic grooves, oozing the reverb-soaked spirit of ‘70s grooves and anchored by the hypnotic pulse of Salin’s Thai roots.
This kind of record makes hi-fi vinyl nerds’ hands sweat. The production doesn’t hold back at allllll. This is Spector’s wall of sound on a cocktail of steroids, weed, and LSD. Imagine layers of lush, cinematic soundscapes stacked so high they probably violate building codes. Hand drums? Check. Chorus? Check. Horns? Check. Bamboo jaw harp? Uhhh, check. Wait. How many fucking instruments are on here? (Checks liner notes) Over a dozen? WHAT THE HELL? I don’t know what half of these are, but they sound awesome.
Salin doesn’t just experiment with global sounds, she exudes them, collects them, bends them to her will.
I usually just give a record a couple listens and feel like I got the gist. I’ve listened to Rammana (a Thai hand drum, BTW) going on twenty fucking times now. Normally, I’d think “I got other shit to do,” but I gotta go listen to this another bajillion times to try to figure out why Salin’s so goddamned good.