More apologies due, this time to permanent clear light whose debuting platter ‘beyond these things’ out now on Havasupai records was admittedly delivered here some months ago and somehow got lost in the release traffic. Happily now found the blighters been bending our ears and sending the turntable into fits of hallucinogenic ecstasy. Now permanent clear light for those found sleeping at the back are your premier real deal Finnish psychedelicists, a three piece no less who’ve graced on a number of occasions the heady back catalogue of the esteemed fruits de mer and have visited upon these pages numerously to much adoration. What it lacks in numbers – only 8 tracks here – it more than makes up for in woozy craftsmanship, we are definitely picking up trace elements of Partridge and Co not so much in their dukes of stratosphear guise as you’d probably expect but more in their ’Mummer’ and ’skylarking’ period XTC guise albeit subtly acquiring the essences of Love, Barrett era Floyd and Delirium era Porcupine Tree (’and the skies will fall‘ which by our reckoning sounds as though it‘s fallen off the groove edges of ‘up the downstair‘). Nothing less than a classic opus ’beyond these things’ fuses together the finest lysergic essences of psychedelia to colour an album that’s trippy, vivid and quite frankly out there. Fairly certain we’ve mention the opening salvo ‘constant gardener’ in these pages previously a gorgeously woven shimmer toned slice of psych folk kaleidoscopia succulently threaded with phased riffage and the mellowing swirl of feel good vibing while the genteel rustic flowering of ‘Ribes Nigrum’ shuffles into Soft Hearted Scientists sound spaces with alluring elegance. Included here is their fruit de mer outing ‘higher than the sun’ here a seemingly re-cut and unedited 9 minute dream odyssey – alas not the primal scream gem of yesteryear – but a Floydist beauty found voyaging the dissipating voids to uber stoned out freaked city trip-ville via Elektra’s defining and legendary ‘cosmic sounds’ album – an absolutely shit faced and wasted monolith chartering sonic higher states once journeyed by the United States of America. Somewhere else there’s the decidedly funky ju-ju that is ‘love gun’ which no matter how many times I hear I can’t appear to shake off that feeling that it sounds like something crafted by a dirty chilled out and smoking blues studio jam worked upon by night by a gathering of Fleetwood’s, weather report chaps and Soft Machine types after a heady drinking session. Then its off to board an intoxicating floaty cosmic jazz mirage courtesy of the kraut grinding kooky ‘skirmish’ Wurlitzer. Centrepiece by far is the seven minute colossus ’harvest time’ indelibly dinked to dreamy nautical washes that to these ears appear to touch base with Archer Prewitt’s magnificent and sadly unheralded ’white sky’ album albeit as though recoded by the luck of eden hall, the undulating pastoral passages are sumptuously threaded in a rich airy vitality brought to bear by the whispery rushes of cornets and mellotrons freewheeling in the folds, and just when it’s getting a little ’Strawberry Fields’ ish the blighters swiftly turn about face to fragment and fracture into a spot of wig flipped beatnik baiting as though some heavily cosmic progged Crimson-esque spacecraft had landed and opened communicative channels with a seriously tripping White Noise. The set draws to a close per two parts ‘paint your wagon’ and three parts Alien Ballroom’s ‘bones of albion’ for the hymnal campfire dressage that is ‘weary moon’ all cosy toed lolloping prairie recitals dimpled in homely hues and then its over.