Lungfish’s umpteenth album and, on the surface, nothing essentially different from the others, but, seeing as you may not have heard them, I’ll attempt an explanation.
The band plays brooding art/math rock that’s repetitive and hypnotic; tribal drums beating subtle rhythms while guitar lines slowly unwind like the coils of a seemingly friendly serpent, eerily graceful to the point that you don’t even realise you’re being devoured.
Then, enter the madman. Singer / lyricist / seer Daniel Higgs provides the finishing touch, holding court like some kind of wild-eyed street preacher with hell in his head and a wild fire in his belly, offering a cracked stream-of-conscious take on everything that encompasses both the commonplace and the divine, from perfect blue skies to kneeling before the tetrahedon. With these words he wraps up this wonderful, broiling noise that may at first appear serene whilst roiling, barely under control beneath the surface.