The Mandalavandalz touch down on Earth long enough to leave us with their third twisted masterpiece. This intense collage of sounds has been conjured up from deep within the minds of the Finish duo, and presented as is, served only with a garish of fresh mushrooms, or perhaps a cup of tea. The pair, already well familiar to the world as Texas Fagott, and have already given us their previous two albums as Mandalavandalz, in the form of Hong Kong Nightlife and the twisted Kamikaze. This third album is the result of many influences from their recent journies, taking all the cultures and traditions they’ve been experiencing, and brewing it up in their studio in Goa, India. They believe with this release they have pushed trance beyond trance itself! Brace yourself as Halluciano Powerotti and Tomo Tomatoeyes bring to you the sounds of the Chapora Nightlife. The future sound, made in a traditional place. Review Courtesy of http://www.psytrancereviews.btinternet.co.uk/ Anyone who bemoans the “unpsychedelic” nature of current psytrance would be well advised to check this out. In fact, calling this ‘psychedelic’ is a bit of an understatement, rather like suggesting that Angelina Jolie has a mouth “reasonably adequate” for performing fellation. The bastard son of Texas Faggot, Mandalavandalz’ music is fast, frenetic, deranged, hyper-ritalin trance recorded in (checks inlay) “Goa.” Wherever that is. Wnd while most night-time music professes to be “scary”, this is Jack Nicholson hacking thru your bathroom door, while everything else is more like an episode of the X-Files. BPM’s are fast, and usually changing. No breakdown lasts longer than about a bar. On Roller Gauze, Typ10ly and Do You Read Me, there’s so much frenetic bouncing going on that it’s hard to keep track. Hotrny Goa Teen Pimps is pornographic both in its worryingly squelch camples, and in its unforgiving mushroom-nightmare synths. Mata’s Medical Story is twisted ge nius, and Monkeywalium is a deliciously abhorrent slab of amyl-house. Top of the heap though has to be Raggare, a rolling Funland-amusement-park indie-jazz-rock, east-cheats-west egg and cress sandwich. Whether viewed as an album or as a vaguely postmodern artistic comment on Something (matters not what), this is utter visionary brilliance. Rating 9 of 10 |
