check out what Pasadena Weekly had to say about Michael's new record "SuperCosmicFuzz"
Current mood: artistic
Super Cosmic Fuzz
Michael Jost brings his guitar and wah-wah pedal to old pasadena
By Bliss 09/11/2008
Like countless other musicians in LA, Michael Jost's name pops up in listings and schedules only to elicit the jaded response, "Michael who?" But his lack of renown is no reflection on his stunningly accomplished guitar playing. His rock star turns with groovy Venice funksters Sugar Bitch are noteworthy, but he's most impressive solo.
Growing up in Germany, Jost was classically trained on his chosen instrument — training that's still evident in the technical command of his playing. Each note spirals up from the fretboard with bell-like clarity, even when he's tearing off lightning-quick riffs. But the most vivid stylistic imprint on his work is the breadth of influences he weaves into his compositions: classical, rock, flamenco, blues, jazz and a healthy dollop of percussive world beats.
Intermittent work as a sound engineer came in handy when he produced his solo albums: 2000's "The Dragonfly and the Hummingbirds," 2002's psychedelically introspective "Mindflowers" and his newest CD, "SuperCosmicFuzz," which is currently streaming on myspace.com/supercosmicfuzz. The de facto single from "Mindflowers," the rousing "Ganja," can be taken as a creative springboard for "SuperCosmicFuzz"; both albums mix acoustic and electric guitars with natural sound effects and electronic signals, but from the taut opening strains of "Sugar," the new disc is more cinematic and diverse.
While the noodly "Eventually" and minor-key cosmic sensibility of "Bright New Tomorrow" sound of a piece with "Mindflowers," Jost overlays the title track's contemplative, flamenco-dusted serenity with heavily distorted rock and strikes into Mark Knopfler territory with the sustained notes and organ swells of "The Lunatic." He breaks out some Delta-style bottleneck slide for "Dig"; he's clearly not a blues player, but it's a refreshing sonic changeup, sandwiched between the seaside noodling of "Orange Sunshine" (replete with seagulls calling in the background) and the squawking guitars of "California Burning." The most peculiar track is "Neighborhood," which is comprised almost entirely of military-style pipes and drums, crowd noise and, in the foreground, the sound of one man coughing; the brief guitar passage at the end is more like an elegiac comment than a song.
Maybe it's the bedrock cynicism that's overtaken the presidential election campaigns, but lately the urge to take short musical vacations from news-reading and analytical thought has been all but overwhelming, if only to avoid busting a blood vessel from aggravation. In that mood, escaping for an hour or two from pop's standard verse-chorus-bridge-verse-chorus architecture into instrumental guitar music's unpredictable, wordlessly emotional terrain is like healing balm.