As if the whimsical wordery of the silly name isn’t enough of a clue, and in case you haven’t se the album’s artwork, the band’s bio confirms we’re deep in hippy, trippy trippy prog territory here. Describing themselves as a ‘Flowerkraut’ collective (again, more wordplay and rhyming frippery), they describe themselves as a ‘complex, multi-limbed organism – varying at any one time between 7 to 10 members’ for whom ‘Welcome to Space Beach’ was the ‘concept’ at the core of this, their debut album.
‘Cosmic’ and ‘trippy’ and ‘far out’ may be obvious and predictable terms to toss about, so I’ll get them out of the way early, since they’re also pretty much necessary for a band who describe the release as ‘an album that conspires the alienating vastness of the cosmos against the warm nostalgias of home. Full of surprise, leftfield turns and closeted experimentations, tape-soaked Brazilian Sambas morphs into Kosmische Kraturock crusades, and shimmering avant-pop electronics melt into sweetened psychedelic bliss…’
Starting ‘Time Goes Up’, they present a vintage jazzy, funky, psychedelic vibe, with nagging rhythms, a busy bassline, and lots of bubbling, whirly synthesisers. You can almost smell the patchouli emanating from the speakers. ‘Hypsersonic Super’ feels more focused as they swerve towards a style that’s a bit more Stereolab, and ripple away over a motorik groove for nine minutes straight. Lyrically, it’s nothing special, but sonically, it cuts the mustard.
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It’s a standout in an eclectic and rather unfocused mish-mash of slow and slinky sonic explorations which don’t always seem to go very far, much less into orbit. Some of it’s quite nice, a fair bit of it’s quite dull, and a large portion of it feels indulgent and unnecessary: ‘The Change and the Changing’ is exemplary, all meandering and bip-de-bap noodling and doodling, showcasing outstanding musicianship but rather less compelling song structure, while ‘Lorenzo’s Desk’ comes on like a jam which takes its cues from ‘Take Five’ and Jamiroquai duetting with The Doors.
Psychedelic, yes, but blissful? That’s debatable. ‘Earth-Sized Worlds’ has its moments, but there’s a muso smugness which permeates much of it. There’s a lot going on, but more isn’t necessarily more.
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