Like Dr Strange on a particularly wild shroom trip, ‘Braindrops’ is so out there it can barely be seen from planet Earth. One glance at the cover art is enough to see that everything, possibly including several kitchen sinks have been thrown into the second album from Melbourne’s Tropical Fuck Storm, the band born from the embers of the seemingly permanently on-hiatus The Drones.
Opener ‘Paradise’ begins in a woozy haze, Gareth Liddiard’s vocals eventually emerging like a hungover Nick Cave. “Nobody out there loves you like I do” feels as much of a threat as a plea as guitars chime and clang into each other, creating an increasingly discordant din before a final squall of riffs land that almost seem to deliberately usher out any faint-of-heart listeners with an endurance test built entirely around ear-splitting noise. For those who pass, the rest of the record arrives in an increasingly eclectic fashion.
Whether grooving along on Gang Of Four post-punk rhythms, or dripping with Afrobeat-meets-proto-hip hop, ‘Braindrops’ doesn’t sit still for long. Set in a dystopian world where monkeys will kill you for looking at their coconuts (almost certainly a metaphor for something, BUT FRANKLY WHO KNOWS?), at times it feels like a lovely dream before drifting into a nightmare soundtracked by John Carpenter.
Tracks may at times meander and elongate past their natural bedtime before snapping back into place with a sharp click, but any drift can always be forgiven due to the sheer depth of imagination on show. If you can tune into the right frequency, this may well blow your mind.