Definitely not your mother's psychtronica/worldly noise-rock act, the Master Musicians Of Bukkake are back for their first LP after the culmination of their lengthy Totem trilogy. Despite the splooge-riddled namesake subverting the Master Musicians Of Joujouka (a Moroccan Sufi trance enclave with ties to The Rolling Stones) and raising red flags normally reserved for Chumbawumba and Joe Lean et al., MMOB exist not to doss around and parade a gimmicky moniker - their have a rigid mission to burrow into your psyche and entice hypnotic states with their global 'post-colonialcore' noises.

This year has seen PR embargoes arriving like buses. Daft Punk, Kanye West, Boards Of Canada, Justin Timberlake, The Child Of Lov all are acts who have for one reason or another, flipped the marketing machine on its noggin and shrouded themselves in some semblance of mystery. MMOB have been doing it for longer than any of them - we still don't know the identities of everyone in the band after approximately a decade - we just have clues that they might include members of Earth and are pals with Sun City Girls. The Seattle-based sonic shamans sidle up surreptitiously for their new instalment, Far West, letting nothing slip, as ever, and wielding an anthology of ominous portent.

The avante-garde noiseniks don't seem to play by a rulebook written in any Earthly tongue. The album comprises six tracks, all but one extending past the seven minute mark, and titled things like 'γη-νομος _ GNOMI' and 'You Are A Dream Like Your Dreamer - A Dark Peace'. It would seem that they're not particularly bothered about hassling the likes of Bastille or Imagine Dragons for places in the Top 40. No. This is a coven of talented, wise instrumentalists with an ingrained passion for doom, apocalyptic omens and mad-scientist experiments of the most dubious calibre.

Nine minute opus 'Cave Of Light - The Prima Materia' begins life as a slow-burning rhythmic standoff. Guitar ostinatos and a squall of sci-fi synths punctuate the Africa-imbued drumming, but before you know it, foreboding brass and baritone chants assume control. It's a changeable track, with subtly diffusing and recombobulating elements that whirr aggressively in your ears. 'Circular Ruins', a sunlight-dappled slab of 60s(ish) folk noises, is wildly triumphant and optimistic amidst the chaos of the rest of the LP. There are glistening synths, jangly chords and American folk strings all pointing outwards towards the horizon, a contrast to much of of the record, which is focused intently on self-reflection and introversion.

Given that the band are still partial to donning animalistic masks and tribal costumes on stage, and subsequently performing sacred musical rites, it doesn't appear that they're likely to adhere to any laws of the material world any time soon. As such, we just have these records, handed down to us like Moses handing down the tablets, to decipher what the Dickens is going on with MMOB. What we have here, post-Totem, is a heady brew of Middle-Eastern and Central Asian influences, infused with post-folk, psych-rock and ambient drones. Listening to the whole record in one sitting is liking meditating in the Himalayas - thoroughly uncomfortable at times, but ultimately incredibly rewarding. It transcends the normal realms of 'music' as a concept, instead delivering a therapeutic salmagundi that flows through your soul.