KAMIKAZE

It's an odd title for such beautiful noise, although the album isn't as tranquil as it first sounds. There's a definite tension to the music as it gradually unfolds over nineteen sustained minutes: undercurrents of menace consistent with the edgy earlier work of this young Massachusetts band.

Once again the primary trio (guitar, bass, drums) was joined by a small battalion of collaborators, playing synthesizers (borrowed from Acid Mothers Temple), acoustic piano, sitars and cellos, horns, woodwinds, and more drums, and featuring an unorthodox vocalist who sounds as if he (she?) is singing backward.

All their efforts were combined into a not altogether formless cloud of drifting psychedelic chaos. The performance is looser, and lacks the propulsive rock energy of other Perhaps albums. But the results are more controlled and focused than ever, despite the improvisational nature of the final product.

Describing it is a challenge. The music sounds like several different bands all playing simultaneously, in an overlapping free-fall of Stoner/Space Rock cacophony and bliss. The experience might be somewhat nerve-wracking at first exposure. But repeated listening can usher you into a hypnotic dream-state where it all makes perfect sense, at least at a deeper level of intuitive consciousness.

This is where I almost drew a sketchy comparison between the album and the ego death of Buddhist nirvana, suggesting that the title might not be so random after all. The music seems to invite a certain navel-gazing whimsy, as you might have noticed by now. But here's a better suggestion: skip the philosophical hyperbole and go straight for the headphones.