Released in some ungodly edition because of the packaging. I mean, how expensive could CD-Rs be? This is where filesharing becomes useful, because outside of 71 people and their friends, no one will hear this. Which is kind of a bummer, because this is worth hearing.
Pink Luminous Invocation will get more attention being Danish than if they were from, say, Nevada, but that doesn't mean they don't deserve it. No, sir. Not a lot of folks can say they do this style of slowly developing post-krautiness this well. See, those cats get all hung up on the ephemeral aspects like kooky instruments and multi-tracked female voices when they forget they should be screwing with your mind. I don't want "sun-kissed" or "blissful" drones; I want ones that will make me peel the paint off the walls hoping there's gold flake underneath. I want drones that illustrate with smoke and let fuzzy dots in through the keyhole. In short, I want to freak the fuck out.
Open the loverly packaging, throw on the recordable media and one 27-minute floating field of cottony condensation is waiting for you. No worries; there's plenty of spooky space for your cortices to bug out in. It most closely resembles the Voigt-Kampf test scene between Deckard and Rachel in that there Ridley Scott yarn, to be truthin' or any underlit establishing shot in Logan's Run. Stretch that shit out until it's the length of an episode of Tomorrow People and chow down.
This isn't going to change the world or anything. It isn't altruist-psych. But it is what it says and it do what it do good & proper. In a world full of No Neck spitboys and bedazzled frumpies, that's saying something all by its lonesome. They said Pink Fog and lo it was a pink fog of a record.
You should hear this.
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