Hardcore-Anal-Hydrogen-The-Talas-of-SatanWhat in the name of the patron saint of meth tweekers do we have here? Well I was expecting insanity when I cast my eyes over the band name and the Eastern religious iconography and font used on the garish cover art. It looked completely intriguing and I had absolutely no idea what to expect. These anal intruders do not come from some mystic Balinese island although at times you could well be mistaken for thinking so but are actually from Monaco and Lyon and musically they mash up more than most fragile minds would be able to digest in a month of Sundays.

The first thing you hear on pressing play is ‘Dhamar’ and the hand tapped caress of some traditional Indian drums along with some big chunky riffs. Mad vocals and skewed lurches come out the speakers and the screams from the singer sound completely deranged. A trill of a flute takes us into a splash of what I can only describe as Indian restaurant music which is so fragrant you can almost smell the spices and are left completely bamboozled as this number finishes not 2 minutes after it started wondering when the hot towel and complimentary mint is going to arrive. Naturally it gets even crazier from here!

We get flung into ‘Ramahad’ with bursts of what I can only call adhdcore with all manner of instruments flying off at speeds beyond sound in a wild brain stewing style. If you think of the likes of The Locust and Behold The Arctopus with the maddest mathcore ever heard you might on the right tracks but that’s before you get to some hip-hop and backward scratching. The pot here is constantly stirred and just when you think you have got to grips with it things change. ‘Pentamere’ is like floating Goa trance with video game bleeps and then a gong is blissfully hit and we are in a Japanese geisha temple. Just as you are chilled out waiting for the next form of karmic intervention ‘Kalakaka’ dishes up more mentalism with grinding instrumentation and vocals like Melt Banana on crack! ‘Rupack’ goes for a fast burst of prog insanity which thankfully is recognisable to some extent as I love The Cardiacs, which it expertly apes along with some 60s Garage flavours to boot.  Further on we get more Ritalin driven garbled screams in a song that lasts seconds then some female caterwauling from what sounds like a deranged bag lady over sudden guitar strums. It really is a case of you don’t have to be mad to listen here but it sure helps. How about some bouncy DRI style hardcore beats, not had any of that have we yet? Not a problem but its only for 30 secs or so as the meds are going to fracture any sanity and throw out something sounding like Romperprop in a pornogrind blender next. Some more Indian style traditional music puts in an appearance for last number ‘Chautal’ before a final giddy dash to the finish-line sees my head do that Scanners thing and blow up.

This is the craziest thing I have heard since Mutation and I admit to welcoming it with open arms. Packing more ideas into things than many bands could conceive in a decorated lifetime career the even more mental aspect to consider is that these 11 tracks are all over in an all too brief 22 minutes. Having said that though I think if it were double the length a padded cell and comfortable jacket would be the only option left for anyone who survived listening to this. I can only commend the insanity here along with a near flawless originality and have to wonder what on earth the band are like live? If you are looking for a real head trip hang on to your various cavities at the following links.

(8/10 Pete Woods)