Thighpaulsandra - Rape Scene

Spiritualized keyboardist and collaborator with the likes of Julian Cope, Coil, and former Can vocalist Damo Suzuki, Thighpaulsandra goes it alone one more time with his third album,the lovingly- titled 'Rape Scene' (which comes with a baffling front cover featuring three sets of toilets surrounded by darkness). In a completely different move to his debut,' I Thighpaulsandra', this time he’s elected to have just three tracks, each one pushing the 15-16 minute mark. Aided by Spiritualized bassist Martin Schellard and Siôn Orgon of spacerockers Rocketgoldstar on drums, the first track, ‘Joyful Misuse of the Gomco Clamp’ (great title, by the way) begins almost as a trance techno album, with bubbling, hypnotic synths and treated vocals; if you close your eyes you could almost imagine this being a rave album from '92. Of course, that impression is soon scorched by some elbows-only piano and heavy metal guitar, turning the song into a cosmic freakout that attempts to outdo Acid Mothers Temple (with whom Thighpaulsandra will be playing alongside at the forthcoming Ochre 10th anniversary festival, whose label – which is also home to The Land of Nod - this release is on). Sadly it just doesn’t reach the peaks that the Japanese drone rock legends reach On the second track , ‘The Busy Two’, any brilliance is totally destroyed by some truly embarrassing lyrics that appear just as the song moves from ambient glockenspiel-inflicted floaty sounds to freakout noise (“drag the v**ina over the trolley park” and “blast Turin”, whatever that’s supposed to mean). The problem is that in places it sounds like a bad rehearsal rather than a brilliant cosmic jam; while the musicians are undoubtedly skilled, the songs frequently meander to the point where they end up chasing their tail in a cul-de-sac. Ideas seem to happen in the middle of songs and then drift off to nowhere. The final track, ‘His Lavish Showroom’ is the best of the lot, beginning with some cascading bell sounds and atmospheric symbols that could make the cut on an Autechre album before some glorious Arabic horns come in; eventually, however, they are mollified by some pointless squealing guitar. Not that there’s anything wrong with squealing guitars if it’s done right, of course; however, there are times on this album when Joe Satriani would blush. Frustratingly, at the very end of the album the guitarist does manage to bring forth some fascinating, brilliantly inventive sounds, even bringing to mind Sonic Youth’s 20 minute-long jam epic “The Diamond Sea”. Sadly it’s just too little, too late. There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with free-form improv jams; but rather than this, listen to the likes of Jackie O-Motherf**ker or the Sundburned Hand of the Man, or the aforementioned Acid Mothers Temple, to hear it done right.