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Thighpaulsandra, "Double Vulgar II"
This is the long-delayed sequel to the mad Welshman's 2003 Double Vulgar album, which was intended to follow closely upon the release of the first, but because of various problems surrounding the pornographic artwork and the dissolution of World Serpent Distribution, it has been delayed until now.
Released as a CD and a triple-LP on Beta-Lactam Ring, the music on Thighpaulsandra's Double Vulgar II is very much in the same vein as its predecessor: long, freeform post-prog soundscapes populated by a basement full of vintage analogue synthesizers, long passages of masturbatory noodling, occasionally erupting into grandiose psychedelic glam-rock centerpieces before giving way to the twittering machines again. The album opens with Thighps and his opera-singing mum Dorothy Lewis trading surreal quips. "I'm not above using these tongs, you know," says Mme. Lewis, to which her son replies: "You afro-intercom bitch!" This weirdness continues for a while, against a backdrop of vaguely Star Trek-ian electronic chirps and the mutated saxophone bleats. The track continues through very surreal territory, sounding not entirely unlike something Nurse With Wound would produce after listening to the entire discography of ESP-Disk under the influence of magic mushrooms. I kept thinking that the song was on the verge of coalescing into something more concrete and musical, but I was wrong—dead wrong—which is good. It's nice to have your hopes and expectations dashed occasionally. "Telly For Rex" is something else entirely, sounding like the group improvisations captured on last year's Rape Scene album.
The trio (or quartet?) of players orbit loosely around Thighpaulsandra's noisy squalls of brain-frying electronics, trying to glue it all together with shambolic percussion and swathes of electric guitar. It's a gloriously incomprehensible mess, all the way up until about the 13-minute mark, at which point the song unceremoniously explodes into a ferocious Hawkwind-style space-rock bacchanalia, complete with incongruous female back-up vocals. Things don't get any clearer with "Imperial," which begins quiet and clattery before gradually turning into an inexplicably groovy jazzy Krautrock with xylophones and all manner of unexplainable audio phenomenon bouncing around the room. Then it gets quiet and creepy again, concluding with a distorted group incantation. "Vomitting Child" begins with the sounds of closely-mic'd droids quietly masturbating, before turning into a vaguely tribal excursion, eventually somehow ending up as a melancholic, spaced-out alt-country number complete with slide guitar and mellow vocals by Thighpaulsandra himself. Ending this kitchen-sink mess is the hilariously over-the-top "Bost Sanvay Unst Bit Sumonver," a truly unhinged sidelong track that begins with a sorta coherent song-type-thing with perverse lyrics ("I wipe my penis on his curtains") and gradually falls apart into its component pieces, wandering lysergically through several deeply fucked-up minutes before reassembling for a final rhythmic leap into space. Double Vulgar II is the sort of album that plays like an uncensored, unedited stream-of-consciousness from a group of talented players being led by a mad genius. It makes no apologies for its excesses (including the erect male member lovingly pictured on the back sleeve), and doesn't stay in one place long enough for anyone to get bored.
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