Seeing as Brooklyn space rockers White Hills have the approval of the First Lord Shaman of Kosmiche, Julian Cope, their second LP was unlikely to disappoint…but FUCK! For one, ‘H-p1’ is well, well over an hour long, which is something that might grate were it not for some careful structuring. ‘Condition of Nothing’ (the record’s worst track) kicks us into pasted eyeliner rawk territory before a climb-down into shady synth and riff-heavy abstracts and the Hawkwind-nodding ‘Paradise’, a side of music sinful enough to get you pregnant through the right speakers. Then, the pattern repeats – only much, much heavier. Anthemic centrepiece ‘Upon Arrival’ fuses camp ’70s guitar lines and flying saucer synths with thrash-psychedelia a la Crystal Antlers, then some material that out-perturbs <Beak for atmosphere before the 17-minute title track, a side of music sinful enough to abort your unwanted sound baby. This stuff isn’t 100% tasteful, but it’s very, very good.

By Edgar Smith

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