Starving Weirdos - Seance at Luffenhultz |Sound&Fury|

I miss a proper '06 Double Leopards release. For real. Not much comes close to the Leopard drone, filhty and intoxicating, able to transport the soul to acid-like levels. They're the ultimate experience. Some outfits come close, Family Underground does, Birchville Cat Motel does but rules on other pitchblack planets. The Double Leopard planet is a purple one, when it rotates the colours change. Like magic. Boo.

This ridiculously named band, Starving Weirdos, come really, awfully close. They're almost equals. The only thing that separates them is Double Leopards' larger, intimidating discography. I understand they're a foursome, names are seemingly irrelevant as they're shortened to acronyms. Seance at Luffenhultz is a mega transmission of a cosmic junkyard symphony. Concrete blocks of infuriating drones collapsing into black voids. The magnificent opener 'Red Crescent Moon' pops the lid off the album like a star exploding inside a tin can. Boasting cavernous drones, chiming endlessly while slowly being covered with a thick blanket of stardust. It never gets smothered though, rays of spellbinding effects shining through the cracks, blinding everything in it's path before slowly retreating into the shadows again. Unholy glory.

Rippling viola sounds moving throug a thick and foggy mud on the album's titletrack. Building up endlessly while never reaching it's climax. Traces of ghostly gong banging in the background, remaining mysteriously subdued. It's like LaMonte Young's perfect drone covered in mud, or Tony Conrad's Four Violins without the...you got it. It's the little details that matter here, coming in all shapes and forms. Vague traces of flute, cymbals and whatnot, all contributing to reach for the insides of Now, ripping out it's intestants and throwing them off the edge of the earth.