moon goose

First of three Fruits de Mer releases due after the Easter weekend or thereabouts, a double vinyl debut platter from Moon Goose entitled ‘Source Code’. By all accounts these dudes have much impressed the FdM folk, a view shared by feedback received for both a track that they gave away for one of those members club compilation CD’s and a CD they gave up to be stuffed in one of those now (in) famous, nay legendary festival goodie bags. They’ve already caught the attention of the Maconie Freak Zone community, the presenter describing their sound as ‘Cumbrian psychedelia’. As said, ‘source code’ is due to land at the fall of April, where it will grace four sides of heavy duty coloured wax all housed in a gatefold sleeve, featuring twelve tracks, the album provides for a whirlwind experience, one minute happily having you in a head clamp, the next dropping in some hallucinogenic disturbia. In truth, if four sides is a little too much for your fragile palette take in at one listening sitting then might we suggest you fast forward to the parting ‘fist fight at the bingo’ for its here where the band pretty much shoehorn everything that’s gone before into one hulking flashback. To the harking of distress siren calls, this strum stricken giddy up oodled with lolloping interludes flickers and flirts seductively with hip hugging chutzpah mutating at free will to embrace a momentary nod to the Wedding Present’s low end fuzzy rumbles a la ‘Sea Monsters’ only to reform dream drizzled in astral raptures and all manner of wasted and woozy dub doped cerebral serene. Its an album so good, so rich in texture and turbulent in nature, that we dare you to find a duff cut. Opener ‘second life’ sets a clear path as to where things are going here, a volcanic warp driven space rocking head shroomer veering seductively into terrains more associated with the Fuzz Club and Eggs in Aspic spectrums this ‘un teased and cooled with a vintage that has an imagining of Hawkwind in a face off with Mountain overseen and symphonically sheened by the Enid. Before you’ve a chance draw breath, ‘knifeless skinning’ rampages in, starts off from a point of immense and moves evermore to colossal, full on atmospheric oblivion, through headphones its as though its circling you from all directions, a full white out progressive psych storm of some raging measure, amid all this a psychotropic radiance literally rewires your head space, its as though you’d been over exposed to some hulking dream machine. ‘le conte’ might favour those fancying their sounds psychedelically funky with oodles of wah wah’s as though cut from a lost early 70’s ultra cool cop / spy flick faithfully reworked anew though scabbed and scorched to within an inch of its life by a sonic storm fired upon a Mogwai meets Helicon like rage. As to ‘the mysterious coffins of Arthur’s S’, what can say, winner hands down based on title alone and yes like me, you’re probably expecting something quite special of something called such, let me tell you, it doesn’t disappoint for here a strange dream like mysterio unfurls that’s so out of step with the rest of the album, the clock ticking motifs of the rhythmic clicks ushering in a tightly coiling sense of urgency, the paranoiac charm of the intensified atmospherics ghost it with a sinister warping and chilled edginess. ‘goldfish in a bag’ on the other hand is straight to the point, pedals to the metal garage twanging 60’s gouging replete with kooky organs which in truth cuts a dash not so dissimilar to that of missing in action of late FdM favourites the Blue Giant Zeta Puppies, killer sci-fi surf sorcery. Just between you and me, ‘trains’ longest track on the set, just edges matters in the affection stakes, from the moment the ethereal mind looping synth lines and the drum rush allign you know instinctively that is going to be an immense aural happening, yet what first appears in danger of unhooking itself from off the rails before its even had a chance to get into a groove suddenly pulls up, sits back, has a smoke and just blissfully goes west and woozy sumptuously soothed in tripping dissipates and the kind of freaky tailoring that one time adored the grooves of those essential Ozric platters before about turning and sending the oblivion dials to maxima for some hasty head heaving astral white out. At its fall ‘joey gets a candle (Swayze Meld)’ is a progian juggernaut that had us much minded of those rarefied sets put out by the Future Kings of England a few years ago, an Eastern fused high ripped with a muscular apocalyptic motoring like the sound of an amassing cavalry coming over the hill. We’ll just of ‘carnage’, an impacting vortex of pulsing space psych attrition set on critical mass setting while ‘dark shit’ as you’d rightly expect of something titled such, there’s a mesmeric and macabre spell afoot oozing from this ominously foreboding snaking weave of this walls closing in bad tripping boogie which at various intervals twists and taunts taking you to the precipice of mind loss with images of a darkening oblivion. Which just leaves the thunderous rapture of ‘garway witch trial’ and the nuts down blistered and wired out frug that is ‘parameter 5’, a killer slab of heavy glam grizzled Sabbathian hot n’ sassy. Any questions?

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