You've never heard an album like this before.

The posthumous debut LP from Aquariana was recorded in 1974 alongside psych-rockers YaHoWha 13, whom she sang backing vocals for. A member of The Source Family - a '60s nature commune (read: cult) fond of polygamy who ran one of John Lennon's favourite restaurants and practised rampant vegetarianism (they're pretty much the stereotype of what you picture when someone says 'hippy') - Aquariana's record never made it to the shelves back in the '70s due to a series of unfortunate events, including the death of her husband and leader, Father Yod.

Blueprinted to be an antithesis to the masculinity of YaHoWha 13 and the Savage Sons Of YaHoWha and the Spirit Of '76, we missed out on hearing it upon completion some forty years ago, but now, thanks to Isis Aquarian releasing the archived tapes, we get to hear this long lost gem. It's an aural time capsule, buried for decades but remaining a snapshot of the era it was birthed.

It feels assuredly modern - considering how long ago it was recorded, that's some feat - and it makes you wonder how well people would've reacted back when it would have been particularly pertinent. Nowadays, it's not exactly at the height of relevance, and you'd probably struggle to find someone who's actually heard of Father Yod or The Source Family, so the links that would've made this so strong are difficult to imagine. It's like if Paul McCartney released his recent record if no one remembered who the Beatles were; would anyone care?

People will care about Aquariana's long-lost debut, but they'll likely be a minuscule niche of nostalgists and heyday harkers-back that remember the '60s and '70s like it was yesterday. It'll probably find a home in a few new hearts, but the likelihood is that this will cater to the needs of a specific demographic who were around and fond of this movement at the time it was happening. However, as aforementioned, it does sound very modern. Many avant-garde singer-songwriters would be proud to release this record as it strikes a sublime balance between heady experiments and classic soul-pop. It's a shame the remasterers weren't able to make the vocals any more crystal, as when Aquariana hurtles to the high registers and sustains volume, it has a tendency to clip and show age. But still, the song constructions at least appear on the forefront of neo-folk.

'Rise Oh Mighty Soul' is this strange, dislocated lounge-gospel cut. The piano performance is especially impressive here, glittering and flowing like a key-based waterfall. Dynamics also play a vital role, and Aquariana flips from a tragic whisper to some goliath, uplifting belt seemingly on a whim. 'Ancient One' is like the lo-fi theme tune to an '80s sitcom that was never picked up by the network because it was too oddball and spiritual. Spirituality is a massive theme on the record, perhaps unsurprisingly given the original context, but it dates the sounds massively. Many of the references to YaHoWha etc. aren't translatable to today's audiences, and where it was supposed to be a counterpoint to the masculinity of related acts of the period, we don't get the whole oomph of the power; sure, we can go exploring and bone up on Yod's sonic endeavours, but then it becomes an analytic and academic excursion. The naturality of the opposing-yet-syncronised femininity and masculinity is lost.

This is a tough, tough record to objective slap a score on - if you're not familiar with the teachings and context and sounds of the related paraphernalia, it may be entirely lost. Maybe not. If you are familiar, then this will surely be a valued addition to the tragic canon. Regardless of either scenario, it's an exceedingly technically proficient and forward-thinking record from an artist we were unfortunate to be hearing only now, far too late to properly appreciate and sing praises to. Ultimately, it's a rather traumatic record, knowing that this was a woman's outlet and passion, something she loved and was proud of, that never saw the light of day during her lifetime. Imagine the world discovering Sinatra only now, and hearing 'It Was A Very Good Year' for the first time in 2013. It's an epitaph; a strange, reverse swan-song for a megastar never born, for an icon never fully realised. This isn't something you hear everyday.