Serpentina Satelite’s last release, Nothing To Say, was the album that gave them that important, initial and largely successful foray into the world markets, thanks to a couple of fanatical distributors. Several glowing reviews followed as it dragged us kicking and screaming back to that warm, blissed-out spacerock sound that the 70s seemed to be bedevilled by, but with plenty of buzzsaw overdrive piled on top for good measure. Think Hawkwind jamming with Monster Magnet and you’d be pretty much there.

Unsurprisingly, Mecanica Celeste follows a natural line of progression by burrowing deep into our sub-conscious with barely-noticeable, whispered text ideology that swirls around the fuzzed lead guitar’s meandering. ‘Sangre De Grado’ deliberately builds the layers, with bare drumming, followed by a hearty, bass rumble before delayed, echoing voices are tossed into the mix with a warbled, sub-level lead topping it all off – it’s chaotic, almost structureless, yet always reassuringly certain of where it’s heading. I’ve always pictured Serpentina Satelite being played late at night in freak-out, bong-strewn teepees – which, ironically, is pretty much where the public first heard it all back in Peru’s capital.

Most tracks are still pretty lengthy, so even though you only get 6 of them, you’re still getting plenty of running time for your money. There are a couple of tracks that break the mould. The two minutes of ‘Imaginez…’ – hushed talking with rising female chanting – is an odd one, but it’s ‘Sendero’ that stands out the most. More chanting (with the lyrics apparently manipulated from a traditional religious song) followed by a slowly emerging, gutsy, chugging over the top of a snare-roll that death marches you all the way into blackened, proto-metal country. It’s a huge sideways leap to take from dancing with pixies inside layers of endlessly swirling constellations to suddenly being ripped asunder by vast, slewing riffs and piercing feedback as 10-foot warlords spear you repeatedly into the netherworld. It does, however, hint at a more aggressive path for the band and that’s something that they could certainly do with to keep thing fresh – perhaps the savage cut to mindfuck needs to be a little less keen next time.

Mecanica Celeste is infinitely darker than anything they’ve tried before, and it’s not quite as well-rounded or intricately-layered as Nothing To Say, but it’s still a bold step into the light fantastic. Do be sure, though, to bring your biggest flares and a wide-open mind.