The lunar side, recorded in a dilapidated barn in France, is guitar based, folkish... poetry caught in a spider’s web of weird sonic inflections… these cracks in the paintwork truly shine, grasp at you hypnotically as the words eradiate their meanings. A sense of purpose and tarnished beauty embalmed in the delivery, akin to that of King Crimson or a pre 'Real World' Peter Gabriel. The accompanying instrumentation often gentle or deliberately grating… a psych drenched and evocative build up that warms you up for the sonic sprawl of the flip side.
The solar side plumbs for a more improvised route. A 17min cacophony called Psychoduct which languishes more on the side of narcotic torpor than violent outburst... That doom laden/ magma type narration fading out on the espers of backward shiver and heart murmur… The shear of glassy eye reflections taking over, blurring out multiples… unholy architectures lurching in contrasting textures… Scars of school bells, loose piano nails, distant yelling and other discordances as tattered feedback spectres close round fragments of chords, echoes of trumpet … tremors of cymbal… A ghostly realisation cut into shanty wobbles of dying breath. The Dissolving Song ends the album, a stark vocal type venture, almost too naked... patched back into psych central with a serene squeezebox accompaniment. Beautiful stuff ... The more you listen the more this release gives out the goods, my only wish is that Monsieur Chainsaw was still here to enjoy it.