crystal jacqueline and the honey pot

Regular observers of these postings will no doubt be all to familiar with Crystal Jacqueline and the Honey Pot, providers of a killer album – entitled ‘sun arise’ – for the much admired mega dodo imprint who’ve strangely gone a tad quite of late since releasing that frankly essential Christmas charity listening experience that was ‘home for Christmas’ – though a brief nose at their band camp site reveals four new nuggets on the pressing block awaiting love and adoration – more on those in a second. Back to Crystal Jacqueline and the Honey Pot who appear to share centre stage on this dandified double disc selection – yes you read right – a twin coloured seven inch jamboree replete in gatefold sleeving all accompanied by an eight page story booklet cobbled together by FdM founding father Andy Bracken with artwork penned by Dale Simpson. And that’s just the packaging for inside be prepared to be arrested by a seven track dream coat clocking in at 28 minutes of woozy enchantment. Here you’ll stumble upon the wired and fracturing pop psychosis of ‘white rabbit’ as it veers from flights of fantasy to smoked out mind lost hysteria whilst Floyd’s ‘remember a day’ is completely rewired and rendered as their own arriving clipped and decoded in a sumptuous supernatural aura that oozes freak prog folk magicalia and mysticism. Talking of re-branding and putting a new spin on hardy weather worn classics of yore their rephrasing of Mighty Baby’s ’Egyptian tomb’ has to be heard to be truly appreciated, applied with a fulsome tripadelic tapestry thrown into the honey pot tumble dryer this beauty emerges from the hot wash spruced with a wasted and kookified jiggy wiggy effervescence that’s trippily tangy and totally tuned out in a wig flipping way. Throw in a mind altering freak beat take of Fleur de Lys ‘tick tock’ in truth sounding as though its been time tripped from the late 60’s
And found itself emerging slightly blurry eyed from out of some magic wardrobe not to mention a corking re-enactment of the electric prunes immortal ‘I had too much to dream’ and you have an immensely must hear set. All said we here find our affections split between Curved Air’s ‘puppets’ and the self penned its raining’ – the former faithfully engaged and spirited away in an eerily macabre chamber phrasing all softly charmed by baroque posies and bewitchment while the latter a triperama turn on which nods in equal turns to label mates the Luck of Eden Hall and Tomorrow.

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