Kula Shaker
Peasants, Pigs & Astronauts

THE REVIEW

It was 1995 when Crispian Mills and Alonza Bevan, founders of "The Kays" (with two EPs to their credit), decided it was time to get serious. Mills' journey to India had profoundly changed his approach to music already with the Kays, but the psychedelia he drew from so heavily had not yet attracted any media interest.
Then the name change to Kula Shaker and the release of "K" represent one of the most thunderous entrances of a group into the British rock-pop scene that I can remember, perhaps surpassed only by "Appetite for Destruction" by Guns N' Roses, but in a completely different environment. Raise your hand if you haven't danced at least once to the rhythm of "Tattva" or "Govinda"...

The mix was perfect: the oriental influences of Indian mysticism, the scent of incense permeating every track, the targeted nods to the "untouchable" music of the sixties (little additions in the style of George Harrison, ceremonial to Gerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead), a constant semi-distorted funky guitar line and the possibility of being considered sophisticated music even if based on melodies as simple as they are contagious quickly won over the very picky English audience first and then the rest of the world.

Then the cover of Hush by the Purple and then... nothing until 1999, the year of this album's release.
A very difficult gestation and the usual problem of the second album. I could mention a thousand and one bands that got lost when facing the challenge of the second album. I won't because otherwise someone might be offended, and I already get enough emails with threats of persecution from fans I’ve made angry.
But the reality is that this group also miserably failed the "test of truth."

The album actually starts well: "Great Hosannah," so close to Blind Melon and "Mystical Machine Gun Man" are respectable tracks that literally make you "Kulo Shakerare" (forgive me the terrible neologism...), but that's almost all there is. A few Indian suggestions, some well-produced sounds are not enough to disguise persistent structural shortcomings, even if there is a decent arrangement. In fact, sometimes the arrangement is too present, too pronounced, to the point of achieving the opposite effect: rather than camouflaging the lack of inventiveness, it reflects it more.
"S.O.S." recalls King Crimson and the Purple, but Mill, with all due respect, is neither Fripp nor Blackmore. "Radhe Radhe" is not even properly a song if not a little world music Indian chorus, the subsequent and very brief "I'm Still Here" seems like a draft to Lennon's '70s lyrics, but if you can't be Fripp, imagine trying to be Lennon!
A decent moment with "Shower Your Love" where the echo of the Beatles' "Revolver" strongly resonates, followed by "108 Battles (of the Mind)" which enjoys good freshness and vitality and then nothing more, another 5 tracks plus the inevitable ghost song of total uselessness.

The impression that arises is that, as usual, when spontaneity is lacking in one's work, one always ends up seeking solutions by trying to think "like Lennon" or "what would Harrison or Garcia do." But if you struggle to soften the very knowledgeable and spoiled English audience with your independence and creativity, it certainly won't be by improperly appropriating others' moves that you'll manage to hold back the boos.
In fact, this work will go almost unnoticed, also due to the mistake of waiting so long after the previous release, and Kula will, before disbanding, find themselves with the annoying "cult band" label, which is an elegant way of saying the album "sucked!"

I wanted to listen to it again after a couple of years to see if I had formed the wrong idea, but I assure you, I wasn't far from the truth: the album in question is little more than nothing and does not justify further listens. Now I'll take it off: darn, where is that Bowie record I had put right there...