Wow Za

"Eight Miles High" by Golden Earring—who knew the Dutch could conjure up such a mind-melting spiral of sound? Man, this track is heavy, freaky, and downright cosmic, stretching across the stars like it’s got a rocket ship engine strapped to it. That distorted bass solo? Well, it’s a time-bending moment in rock history, so primal and thick with fuzz, it practically invents the genre of sludgy heaviness that would be perfected by Sabbath a few months later. You’re hearing the rumblings of a beast about to wake up, baby, and it ain’t gentle—it’s ominous, it’s raw, it’s like a serpent on fire.

Let’s talk about that bass. It’s a warping force in itself—climbing, contorting, and then blooming into this gritty, snarling beast that rattles your bones. It’s a bridge between the psych-rock haze of the late '60s and the fist-to-the-face of metal to come. I’m talking about that throbbing, ear-splitting rhythm that mirrors the very chaotic pulse of the universe. Lemmy would’ve tipped his hat to it, man. You know he would’ve, nodding in approval, looking at those fuzzy tones and saying, "Yeah, that’s the way to do it."

And if you wanna talk about future legends—look no further than Cliff Burton. The raw, guttural force of that bass guitar in "Eight Miles High" is practically proto-Metallica, man. You can feel Burton’s spirit in the air, soaking in every reverberation. The track’s bass doesn’t just follow the beat—it leads it, like a beast of the wild taking over the jungle. Burton, the mad genius, probably listened to this and thought, "Yeah, that’s the sound I want in my band."

But let’s not forget the wild energy of the band. It’s gonzo rock and roll, pure and simple. You can practically see the haze of smoke and feel the sweat dripping off the players as they carve their way through the track like a hot knife through butter. The guitars twist in and out, bending time like the minds of a generation hooked on acid and speed. The tempo fluctuates like it’s on a wild ride—no rules, no boundaries, just pure freedom.

Golden Earring's "Eight Miles High" ain’t just a song, it’s a declaration of intent—psychedelic, space-bound, and loud. It’s as if they took the ‘60s and threw it into a blender with the future of metal and came up with a concoction that, even now, stands as a testament to the chaotic brilliance of rock's most rebellious, gonzo elements. And you better believe Lemmy and Cliff Burton would've been right there, in the thick of it, nodding along to the sound of what was to come. This is the essence of rock’n’roll, man, unfiltered.