Oh man, a world without David Bowie. Last month we lost the true greatest, and suddenly art just doesn't feel as limitless as it once did. His music spanned the genre spectrum like nobody else's did, and his influence is evident in almost every record that I've compiled for the second edition of the Psych Out column. A world without Bowie is a darker one, but thank god his weirdo influence lives on in such great music.


LSD and the Search For God - Heaven Is a Place

Heaven Is a Place, a record by LSD and the Search for God on Deep Space Recordings and Mind Expansion - not including this in the Psych Out column would have been criminal. Thankfully, the incredibly on-point psychedelic branding isn't misguided. Swirling, reverb-soaked melodies wrap around each other loosely as the San Francisco band find their most striking form yet, their post-Creation niche being launched further into the stratosphere than they've managed to go before.


Half Japanese - Perfect

Okay, so Half Japanese wouldn't exactly be at home amid a contemporary peer to the Nuggets compilations, but the art punk collective's latest effort is as freakout-inducing and utterly ridiculous as ever. It's incredible that a band can manage to sound so raw yet make a noise as mind-bending as they do. 'That is That' struts like The Seeds and screeches like Boredoms, Jad Fair and co. hit their weird groove as convincingly as ever and return to find lo-fi contemporaries still playing catch up.


Fat White Family - Songs for Our Mothers

Fat White Family are, at this point, part of the lexicon when it comes to contemporary outsider music, their phallic stage antics earning them as much sought after disgust as their music. On their second full-length, they come a lot closer to getting the multi-layered sonic assault that their live show boasts down on tape. If Holger Czuckay and Pete Cook started a Marxist-charged psychedelic punk band, it would probably sound an awful lot like the Fat Whites' latest.


Ty Segall - Emotional Mugger

Synchronous with off-kilter garage rock, you'd think it'd be increasingly difficult for Ty Segall to shock people, especially at the blistering rate he puts out music. "The paper's say we're going to hell" he slyly croons on 'California Hills', before concluding "send them all back to hell", his frenzied shredding even more deafening than his kicking against the pricks mentality. Emotional Mugger feels like an uneasy middle-ground between garage psych gold and rapacious self-parody. His cryptic genius is all that's undeniable.