on 14 February 2002
No one else makes digeridoos sound scary. There's hiccupping beats here, dark nasties of sound, vocals pulled in, out and all over the show. (Somewhere there's a small creature in a jesters hat, pulling at the light cord...). There's Annie Anxiety and Marc Almond in there somewhere, sounding lost and alone - like they're yelling from inside thick black glass. Later on, there's how Beefheart might have sounded if he'd ditched the guitars and invested in some short wave radio's and vintage synths; there's deep sound everywhere on this album; the more you listen the more you hear. you ought to have this.
Back in the 1990's the country was awash in music which offered XTC in a surrogate bon homie of arms around a stranger whilst the brain soared into the stratos and feelings of camaraderie with gaia became the norm. Then there was this, a much deeper cut into the wrist to release something beyond pain as this is a controlled release of madness. Think of it on a timer just under an hour. It could only have been created during this era as it unrolls elements of TG previously displayed in their "Jazz Funk" album into the next decade or two. Here however at the end of the world rave the whole scene is pumped full of pulses pulling the unwary into the melee. It is a stupendous album and whilst everyone was being bombarded with banging tunes, outside of the clubs the music faded quicker than a snowball in the sun.
These however have not only survived outside of clubland they still hit it after twenty years of being blasted out.