That a loose jam project would eventually evolve into such a cohesive band was something the first two Tranquonauts albums hinted at, but never guaranteed. After all, this is a line-up made up of musicians who have already left their mark with Earthless, Mos Generator, Big Scenic Nowhere and Seedy Jeezus. Combinations like this often end up sounding like little more than a collection of great ideas. "III", however, does the exact opposite. It sounds like a band that has found an identity entirely of its own.
"All Rise" immediately lays out the blueprint. Vintage sci-fi samples, a slow-rolling riff and that wonderfully organic production where every guitar layer seems to breathe. Anyone expecting another endless fuzz workout will be caught off guard, though. Tranquonauts now think in terms of dynamics and tension rather than simply stretching out a jam. It recalls the hypnotic patience of early Hawkwind or the gradual builds of Colour Haze without ever slipping into imitation. Once the Mellotron starts weaving through the guitars and Isaiah Mitchell's lead work drifts further away from the song's original framework, the real trip begins.
The album's boldest move comes with "Space Child". Covering a UFO classic is always a risky proposition, but Tranquonauts navigate it with remarkable confidence. Rather than treating the original with untouchable reverence or forcing it into something unrecognisable, they completely absorb it into their own universe. By the end, it feels less like a cover and more like a Tranquonauts song that simply happened to exist decades earlier. The improvised centre section captures everything that made early Ash Ra Tempel and Amon Düül II so compelling: the sense that every musician knows roughly where they're heading, while the actual journey only reveals itself as it's being played.
"Broken Star" is the emotional and musical centrepiece of the record. Seven minutes that refuse to hurry anywhere. No cheap crescendos, no calculated climaxes. Paul Crick's bass digs deep into the ground while Mark Sibson's patient, almost hypnotic drumming locks into an irresistible groove. Above it all, layers of guitars slowly unfold somewhere between Elder, Yuri Gagarin and the more cosmic moments of Monkey3. It's a piece that grows with every listen, delivering its greatest impact precisely because it refuses to chase obvious payoffs.
Closing track "S() Sigurnova" takes another unexpected turn. There are unmistakable echoes of Sigur Rós in its atmosphere, yet it never borrows their fragile melancholy. Instead, it feels like watching a dying star slowly burn itself out. Mellotron textures, restrained vocals and guitars that float rather than dominate gradually build towards one final multi-layered surge of fuzz before dissolving into cosmic static.
The biggest step forward compared to the previous records lies elsewhere, though. "III" leaves behind much of the aimless wandering that often comes with traditional jam records. Every improvisation serves the song, every shift in dynamics feels purposeful without ever sounding calculated. Very few bands operating in heavy psych manage to strike that balance. Where others drift into self-indulgence, Tranquonauts tell stories.
The fact that the band has finally taken these songs to the stage, making their live debut at Freak Valley Festival, only reinforces that impression. "III" doesn't sound like a studio experiment; it sounds like music that will continue to evolve every time it's performed. And perhaps that's the album's greatest achievement. Despite its compositional maturity, nothing here feels final or fixed. These four tracks come across as snapshots of a band that still hasn't reached its creative peak. Heavy psych has always thrived on vision, dynamics and the willingness to surrender control. It delivers all three in abundance and already stands among the genre's strongest releases of the year.
-Helge Neumann
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