I teased this one a little while back, but the full record slides into the social consciousness this Friday. Ignatz & De Stervende Honden offer up their third LP, and with it comes a softening of sorts. The frayed edges get a bit of a trim. Gone is the ragged froth of free rock that laps at the Les Ralles disciple-dom, but that by no means detracts from the band’s ability to skirt the unraveled boundaries of the psychedelic spectrum. The last couple of albums have been more insistent, more inclined to huff the harsher fumes that have risen off of the free boogie midnight ramble. Here, though, the band eases into a kind of twilight groove. The slight choogle that lapped at the lacing of the last album has begun to take root, and the band embraces the hypnotic aura before them with open arms.
Locked drums underpin an undulating motion of guitars, stretching the mechanics of inner glow mantra out into the cosmos for a bit of a lap around the nebula. The record reeks of late night loner moves, bringing a narcotic thrum to the brain that expands on impact. Saturday’s Den fills the pores, fills the sinuses, fills the spaces between molecules. It’s an ooze-saturated blooze blend that bends around the arc of time to slow things down to a gelatinous creep. As it stabilizes the band lands gingerly into pop’s arms and prog’s ripple, finding common ground between the supple singe of Flying Saucer Attack and the dirge and dream of The Red Krayola. The new record slots in as their best yet, refining all that’s come before it into a lysergic lap around the infinite whirlpool. Can’t recommend this one highly enough.
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