fruits de mer conducts …. deep sea exploration ….

You might need to hang on a little longer on the Fruits de Mer winter batch of releases, appears there’s been a delay with the promos meaning that we’ve literally just taken delivery of the freebie CD that you’ll find handsomely tucked in your parcel should you purchase the season’s selections. Titled ‘fruits de Mer conducts Deep Sea Exploration’ the CD features a nine strong gathering of instrumental talents, some we’ve heard others, here in the majority I’m mortified to admit, a mystery though not for long. It’s your typical spray of prog, psych and kraut, most sounding like they’ve been unearthed from the vaults of some forgotten and abandoned label warehouse from the late 60’s, prime example being Cosmic Juice’s quite splendid ‘moon pillow’ which amid its workmanlike nuts down pedal to the floor space crafted wah-wah wooziness loosens up for momentary spots of psyched out trip wiring before jettisoning off in to the great oblivion. apologies aplenty to the Insektlife Cycle whose Gardeners Delight full length ‘temple of our soul’ have long been on our to do list for undying critical love, so while we get our proverbial elbows and arses in to gear, here’s one of that sets key note tack, the title track track, here remodelled as an improvisational jam, a little something that ought to stare the Sendelica folk, for this bad boy is simply way out and flying, a humungous head tripper of galactic proportions, totally fried, freaked and mind fracturing, a total bonged out experience after which through partaking your perceived reality mightn’t be all it first seems. Up next, Silenzio with ‘princess’ , which pardon me for a moment, once locked into our psyche, had me recalling the work of early career Julie’s Haircut, seriously don’t ask why, but there’s something here very much freewheeling into those terrains. anyway, that aside, we must admit to adoring the chamber etchings applied to this slow burning gems, its regal detailing, poise, the reverb shimmerings and sense of drama all swirling within its courtship to some hitherto unseen summit. there was, in days long since passed, whereupon we used to get sent literally oodles of this type of stuff, i guess some might call it post rock, though here with a cosmic spin, the lock grooving fixed point positioning drawing its armoury to it much like a magnet with iron shavings, getting ever denser and growing in mass asssuming definition,all the time prowling with pensive pause until assuming maximum impact, just letting loose in a punishing burn of grizzled white out radiance, something i’m sure that’ll go down well with admirers of the Brew collective, anyway its by Alber Jupiter and goes by the name ‘Flying Turtles’. more stonery shake down in the guise of Ax and Sunhair’s ‘spaceship memoty’, now this is absolutely bliss kissed in a fracturing Floyd type way, all woozy dissolves, a mind melting mosaic whose lush trip toned trimmings are ripe for head phone immersion though i seriously suspect a fair few who embark on the odyssey might not make the return crossing back. i’m certain we poured much fondness upon SEN3 a littleww while ago, deservedly so given they meticulously fuse a cool line in soul funk mellowing which i don’t mind saying wouldn’t look too out of place on the Wonderfulsound player, this particular track being ‘the Rinse’, exquisitely shows off their versality and somewhat smoky sassy revealing with subtle aplomb, a lineage that draws deep to the workbooks of Budd and Schifrin. how best to describe beyond the dune sea’s ’embryo’, certainly a little something that in a different time, space and location might well have had the folks over at the much missed 90’s Delirium imprint going positively ga ga for, anyway on this occasion shall we settle for sumptuous lounge stoner as a descriptor, oh and while you’re there, roll up a fat ‘un r’kid. rounding matters up with the brace of cuts that bookkend this superb collection, Vision Eternal’s ‘killer of giants’ is courted with a stately air and a sense introspection, the intricate weave riff cascades endowing it with a crystalline classicism more redolant of a mid 90’s era Roy Montgomery, which i’m sure you’ll agree, is no bad trick to have up your sleeve. Which all leaves Gregory Curvey’s solo venture Custard Flux to draw these musings to a close with the curiously spring heeled radiance of ‘Echo’, its trademark hints of the Luck of Eden Hall ghosts mellowed in a dream drifting woozy of pop pressed psychedelic breezes and the sunny effervescence of pastoral posies decorating the grooves amid which and to a delicate brushing, a sun dried reflective faraway blossoms.

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