There’s the real world and then there’s Wooden Shjips’ world. A land where a few extra “j”s never hurt anybody–in Wooden Shjips’ world, it’s always July, just slightly after sunset, on a Californian beach road. Seventy-five, slight breeze, and the acid is never brown.
This album is full of heady, trippy, hypnotic psychedelia, the kind that gradually lifts you up and off into the cosmos of your mind. The songs – best described as a cross between '60's hippie jams and classic Kraut rock – wander repetitively but never aimlessly, with swirls of guitar that roar at you from the netherworld before retreating back. It's good music for staring at a haze of smoke and finding all the visions within. My advice: accept Wooden Shjips' invitation, tune in, and blaze out.
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