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Thighpaulsandra : I, Thighpaulsandra

Two CDs and over two hours of surreal, menacing, semi-improvised noise.

Thighpaulsandra : I, Thighpaulsandra

6 / 10 You know how it is. You wait

all your life for a 70-minute, experimental, cosmic-prog solo album by a bloke who plays guitar with Julian Cope and Spiritualized and, whaddya know? Two come

at once.

'I Thighpaulsandra' is two

CDs and over two hours of surreal, menacing, semi-improvised

noise - if there's one thing Thighpaulsandra has learned

from working with Messrs Pierce and Cope then it's to follow your muse wherever

it takes you regardless

of the consequences.

With such a vast expanse of wild, directionless music, 'I Thighpaulsandra' rambles like billy-o. Take the gargantuan 'Michael Publicity Window' as it casually thunders its way through Orby ambient house, King Crimsony space-jazz and - whoah there! - something that sounds suspiciously like a song. It's 25 minutes long. You get the picture.

In parts it's stunning enough - 'Beneath The Frozen Lake Of Stars' is what music would have sounded like if Gong had won World War Two instead of the Allies - and even on the bits when he disappears down a blind alley you can marvel at the sheer, glassy-eyed, hugeness of it all.

You could ask him to edit it down, you could ask him to write more tunes, but what's the point? 'I, Thighpaulsandra' defies rock'n'roll and convention while defying your patience. It comes from another planet. Er, baby.

Jim Wirth

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