Goddamn. I literally sighed with relief once this thing was finished. The lame-ass, void-of-album-art promo this CD came packaged in claims this release finds the band “subtly shifting the shape of the psychedelic synth-rock that defined them” with their last album. Not, however, subtly enough, in this reviewer’s opinion. And apparently the NME says that they’re the “real deal” and that they “don’t even have to try.” Well, maybe they should try: they might come up with something better than these ten painfully slow, droning, wank-obsessed epics. Hey guys, here’s one for the next promo CD: “Listening to this record was akin to shooting rocks out of one’s dick.” I have spoken, thank you.