Some genuine mystical, trance exploration of the inner space from a three piece that grew up on a Krishna farm out among the rednecks of Florida. Not your standard issue suburban kids, hopped up on Aspirin and glo-sticks, staring through their Magic Third Eyes at adverts for the new Noel Fielding series on E4 until life's contradictions become resolved. Not that those kids don't end up in the same place, I expect. These kids went to temple and danced themselves into sweet Utopia every Sunday morning.
The point is to lose yourself. That's why there's a disco ball on the album cover: I understand that much. And it's a big cosmic sound with thundering drums, chants in both Sanskrit and English, some proggy swoops on the auld keyboard and plenty of room to run about in. The vocals are wraithed in the fog of the music as is the vogue nowatimes. Not that there are many lyrics to pick up.
"Rest In Peace" begins with some soulful "oooh yeeahs!" before it kicks off with a satisfying arabic thump. "Summer of Love" mixes the bells and cymbals with some lovely old school crunchy keyboard, marrying two Summers of Love together quite neatly. "Trust" gushes out wave after wave of insistent pounding and soft chanting. It also a faint sense of Depeche Mode about it, which I like. A lot of the tunes have the sense of an organic reworking of techno, particularly at the beginings. The use of beautiful, deep bells at the end of "Incarnation" is a lot uncheesier knowing they were brought up on this stuff. I know AUTHENTICITY shouldn't matter, but I'm pretty sure these religious trappings are worn a lot more lightly as a result. And that reflects well on the tunes*. The feeling is that they've grow from a different place to mingle with people with less exotic backgrounds in the same dance.
They played the Animal Collective All Tomorrow's Parties last year, that I had to miss because I was saving up to get all married and everything. But I'll bet that was a sweet gig. They look quite striking too, which has got to help make an impact.
My blue-skinned thumb is up. To the hindic disco ball! And make your fingers snappy!
Rating: Outer Space out of Inner Space
*I'm getting images of me making with the music business on stage in my altar boy cassock, smoking the place out with a thurifer and tinkling my altar bells. Bam! Sexual chocolate!