Now sold out from the source.

Wasn't expecting to see a new album from these guys in 2016. Part of the same twisted UK noise/psych/sludge rock scene that brought us the likes of Godflesh, Fall Of Because, Skullflower (with whom they shared a member), God, and Sweet Tooth, Terminal Cheesecake were a weirder, noisier outfit heavily steeped in the din of classic psychedelia, but enfolded it within a crush of distorted guitars, sludgy riffage and blown-out mayhem that could really fry your frontal lobe. But these guys hung it up around the mid-1990s, their last album King Of All Spaceheads coming out back in 1994, and as the years have worn on, their stuff has become harder and harder to track down for collectors. It's great to hear 'em back in action, though, and their new album Ancients sounds heavy as hell, no surprise seeing as how they now have Dave Cochrane (God, Greymachine, Head Of David, Ice, Sweet Tooth, Transitional) handling bass duties. In fact, I'm trying to remember when these guys ever sounded quite this heavy. When the opener "Birds In 6/8" kicks in, that distorted bass comes in lurching blasts of low-end crunch, digging in with a mean hypno-riff as those echoing vocals and hypnotic drums and squalls of spaced-out guitar noise and Hawkwindian FX are splooged across the track. Pummeling and aggressive, that opener puts a neon-dyed boot right through your skull. And from there the album proceeds to slide further down the lysergic abyss, guitars exploding into fuzz-drenched serpentine riffage, molten chords turning black and gooey as they glom together into walls of gargantuan sludge, an arsenal of effects pedals all cranked to eleven, vocals echoing and shrieking and yelping through the cosmic haze. It's like some monstrous melding of Butthole Surfers and drugged-out, dundering doom metal on some of these tracks, the drumming shiofting between pounding tribal rhythms and slugfuck pummel, weird samples littered throughout the songs, the riffs primitive and droning. On "Song For John Pt 1", the band lumbers through a crushing psych-groove that sounds like a roid-raging Loop jam before it goes supernova in a blast of speaker-melting psychdrone, and the closer "Lord Jagged (The Chemical Teacake Quintet)" brings it all crashing down with a whacked-out assault of improvised free-rock violence.