If I'm honest, this review could just read" "BUY.THIS.RECORD.IMMEDIATELY." But… I'm a professional, and so I shall go into greater depth, as is fitting with this release.

The second release on now-again for Heliocentrics is a 21-track amble through deep and dark recesses of a mind, not so much troubled, as completely amorphous. This is the love child of a bad trip and some God in the desert experience, gorgeously emotive yet holding out for the heartache, knowing and biding its time; a cobra's bite in a kittens mouth.

It would be easy to call this a straight up psychedelic / freak record, but the elements found at the very core of these songs are as diverse as you could ever fathom. This is experimental music rooted in a psychedelic stable. But these horses play free-jazz, using field recordings, sonic manipulation and heritage instrumentation. A melting pot would be too small frankly.

Imagine The Olivia Tremor Control jamming with Soft Machine, Syd Barrett at the controls, and guest spots from everyone from Daphne Oram to Fela Kuti. In space. Possibly on ice. With support from Space Ritual era Hawkwind.

This warped theorem is evident best on the near eight-minute psychotropic freak funk workout 'Wrecking Ball', and never has a song title been so apt. A horseslip groove, guitars sprinkled in and out of your direct line of audibility, a motoric bassline and electronics spiralling and cavorting, spasming and writhing. Everything vying for your attention, everything working when really it shouldn't.The whole record is interspersed with sub-sixty second sonic collages; samples from old films and the occasional hiss or fizz of electrically amped up keys.

I would imagine Heliocentrics to be even more of a freakout in a live arena, but for now… slap on those headphones, resist the kool-aid and set your mental controls for space.