It's been sixteen long years since Chicago's own Jonny Polonsky hit the national scene with the brilliantly D.I.Y. debut, Hi My Name Is Jonny. Discovered by Pixies singer Frank Black and signed to the respectable Rick Rubin imprint, American Recordings, Polonsky worked up a righteous rock lather on his supremely self-assured debut.
The record bombed, of course, a victim of willful neglect on the part of the label's marketing and promotional wing. Since then, Polonsky has released a few indie-based solo efforts to little acclaim; his genius a more guarded secret, it seems, than the contents of Area 51. Instead, his bread and butter has been as a sideman and session guitarist for the likes of Johnny Cash, the Dixie Chicks, Pete Yorn, and as a member of Maynard James Keenan’s subversive side project, Puscifier.
While it is a damn shame that Polonsky is not headlining a ten-night stand at the local Enormo-Dome, one can take solace in the fact that Rick Rubin seems to adore Polonsky to such an extent that he seems quite determined to keep this secret to himself, for the most part.
Recorded in Rubin's home studio, Intergalactic Messenger is a jubilant return to form, eschewing the slight attempts at commercial accessibility of 2004's The Power Of Sound. It is clear from album opener "Bearclaw" that Polonsky has opted to not give a flying fuck about whatever flavor-of-the-weak might be all the rage. He has come to blow our fucking minds whether they need to be blown or not.
Now, you're gonna think I'm blowing smoke up your ass when I saw that this is the album Prince should have made after Dirty Mind. In a lot of ways, Intergalactic Messenger shares the same socio-political commentary as much of The Purple One's Controversy album. Also, like that album, Intergalactic Messenger is largely the work of a single man whose talent knows no bounds, it seems.
I dare you to listen to "See Your Lies", to the explosively brilliant guitar interlude that hits at the 2:00 mark and not find yourself muttering "Holy fuck, how is this guy not a fucking STAR?"
"Coming Into Slaughter" is a futuristic declaration arriving forty years too late to make the final cut of Bowie's Space Oddity and said album is the worse for it.
First Prince, now Bowie, you see where this is going don't you?
If you can listen to "All The Evil Things" and not feel a chill down your spine, I contend that you died long ago and someone forgot to "CC" your body on the memo.
Polonsky, of course, has "CC"'ed us all on this delightfully monstrous new record. Let's be kind and forward the message to as many people as we can.
You can stream Intergalactic Messenger of Light And Love in its entirety HERE.