‘Let’s Get Weird’ is the talismanic phrase with which San Francisco six-piece Sleepy Sun send forth their psychedelic jam-train. Unfortunately, citing horticulture, pizza and Neil Young as key inspirations screams ‘stoned, stinking hippies’. But this debut reveals a band who emerge from behind the shoulder of Black Mountain and the curvature of Earth to illuminate the Dead Meadow with some deranged and fresh ideas of their own. The great ‘om’ begins with ‘New Age’, a sprawling piece that cocks a snook at beady meditation in favour of some end times fire-and-brimstone noise. Yet Sleepy Sun are at their best when they revel in both light and dark, unleashing throatily riffing guitars to disrupt pastoral interludes. ‘Sleepy Son’ is like encountering a randy grizzly during a hike through a peaceful valley heady with the scent of eucalyptus. Similarly their ‘White Dove’ might eventually bring the olive branch of peaceful acoustica, but that’s only after a chaos of angrily clattering cymbals and militarised guitars lay waste to their verdant surroundings. Weak-minded souls beware, for this isn’t the warm patchouli stick you might at first expect.