It'd be too easy to get away with using a cheap pun when summing up this album and describing it as 'colossal' (see what I did? etc., etc.), but there's really no way around it. Such an adjective becomes the elephant in the room when discussing a band with a sound as huge as Hey Colossus. Their sound has always been overwhelming in a number of different ways, but the lo-fi aesthetic of previous albums (like previous album RRR) has been swapped out for a sound that's hi-fi without becoming overbearing. With a band like this (featuring eight people), sometimes the full-on approach that they've become known for can become a little too much, but this time around, they've decided to ring the changes in ways that initially seem subtle, yet become more pronounced with repeated listens. I suppose that's what losing a drummer does to a band of this ilk, but with Part Chimp's guitarist and vocalist, Tim Cedar, lending a hand (well, two hands and feet) on drums, the band sound re-energised, and it shows.

The riffs are muscular, the songs repetitive and surprisingly groovy-sounding, and the vocals are delivered with an ear-splitting intensity; hence, noise rock with sludge metal undertones that definitely isn't for the faint of heart. Those who can stomach this sort of thing will find much to enjoy, and the confident-sounding opener 'Hot Grave', featuring chugging riffs, growling vocals and synths (!!) takes as much influence from 70s Krautrock as it does heavier styles of music. 'Oktave Dokkter', meanwhile, features a bassline that sounds powerful enough to kill a man, while the masterful (and brilliantly-titled) 'How to Tell Time With Jesus' stretches to 10 minutes long, featuring some of the most reserved playing on the album and creating something that's hypnotic and intense, even when it changes time signatures midway through and spirals towards a raucous finale, one in which Cedar's drumming skills are highlighted wonderfully.

The stoner rock grooves and snail's-pace tempo of 'Leather Lake' introduce the second half of the record and hints at the band regaining some of their old intensity, its deafening finale bleeding into penultimate track 'English Flesh', on which the band the band produce the sort of sound that suggests there's eight people in a room, all playing for their lives, going all out and giving Cuckoo Live Life Like Cuckoo the kind of send-off it deserves, before 'Pit and Hope' closes proceedings in surprisingly laid-back fashion. Maybe there's a future for HC as a post-rock band? I wouldn't be surprised; while they're at their best when they power ahead with their speaker-bothering material, there's a freshness to this album that hints at even better things being yet to come.