Keyboardist Jamie Saft describes this project as aiming for “a monolithic, microtonal blues vibe” – which tells you pretty much everything you need to know about the creative intentions at work. Across three very long tracks, Saft rolls out deep, rumbling organ drones, building a foundation for Joe Morris to shred the living daylights out of his electric guitar, with microtonal metalisms that feel like they're constantly stretching for an elusive, enlightened state of being that remains frustratingly just out of reach. Mike Pride seals the deal with a bludgeoning barrage of drums, signalling – in case you were in any doubt – that this enterprise is fundamentally concerned with energy, its uses and effects. There's a strange dissociation at work that somehow alchemises fast – almost fusionlevel – velocities of playing into slow, lumbering behemoths. It's deeply psychedelic, dripping in hirsute machismo and devilishly uncompromising – but it's also kind of exhausting. You might need a lie down afterwards.