Kula Shaker – Wormslayer
Thirty years is a long time to keep the psychedelic flame burning. Most bands from the Britpop era have either split up, reunited for nostalgia tours, or softened into middle-aged irrelevance. Kula Shaker, however, has chosen a different path. With “Wormslayer”, their eighth studio album, Crispian Mills and his original lineup prove they are still capable of conjuring the same mystical energy that made them Britpop’s most gloriously strange outliers, only now with the confidence of veterans who have nothing left to prove.
The album kicks off with “Lucky Number”, and within seconds, you are transported into Kula Shaker’s unique universe. A brief sitar meditation gives way to full-throttle psychedelic rock reminiscent of Oasis’ swagger, filtered through a kaleidoscope of Indian mysticism and sixties garage rock. It’s a statement of intent: this is not a band chasing former glory or trying to recapture the magic of their chart-topping debut “K”. This is a band that has found its stride in the space between reverence and recklessness.
What makes “Wormslayer” particularly compelling is its refusal to stay in one lane. “Good Money” swirls with Beatles-like phased vocals, think George Harrison at his “Love You To” peak, before erupting into a funk-infused psychedelic workout. The track is part of a larger story woven throughout the album: a psychedelic rock opera about a boy who grows wings, which Mills describes as both a fairy tale and a metaphor for life’s cruel transformations. It’s ambitious stuff, the kind of conceptual storytelling that could easily collapse under its own weight. But Kula Shaker pull it off with theatrical flair and genuine emotion.
The emotional spectrum of the album is impressively broad. “Be Merciful”, a track that first appeared as a bootleg demo almost two decades ago, provides soulful respite amid the more bombastic moments. Production by electronic pioneer Mark Pritchard blends analogue warmth with live band energy, creating a spacious, ghostly atmosphere. Then there’s “Day for Night”, an eighty-second acoustic detour that sounds like Woody Guthrie channelled through a psilocybin haze, short, folky, and utterly charming.
Jay Darlington’s return on the Hammond organ is crucial to the album’s sound. His keyboard work provides both grounding and lift, whether it’s the swirling psychedelic textures on “Broke as Folk” or the church-like grandeur on “The Winged Boy”. The latter, with its marching percussion and choral vocals, feels like Pink Floyd’s “Meddle” reimagined as a spiritual journey. It’s the kind of expansive, transcendent moment that made “Govinda” so revelatory in the nineties, proof that Kula Shaker’s mysticism is not mere decoration but the very essence of their sound.
The title track is “Wormslayer’s” boldest gamble: seven-and-a-half minutes of mantra-metal building layer upon layer into a hypnotic, almost overwhelming wall of psychedelic fury. It’s prog rock without the self-importance, Eastern drone without the pretension. Some critics found it too long, and granted, it doesn’t reveal all its secrets on first listen. But for those willing to surrender to its hypnotic pull, it’s a richly rewarding experience, an invitation to confront internal dragons and emerge transformed.
Not everything lands perfectly. The album can feel uneven at times, with “Little Darling”, a glam-rock ballad with Roy Orbison undertones, feeling somewhat formulaic compared to the more adventurous tracks around it. And yes, there are moments when the band’s prog tendencies threaten to overwhelm the direct power of their best songs. But these are minor quibbles on an album that feels genuinely alive with creative restlessness.
“Wormslayer” closes with “Dust Beneath Our Feet”, a warm, reflective meditation that feels like a gentle exhale after the journey. It’s a fitting end for an album that manages to be rooted in classic rock tradition while utterly unbothered by contemporary trends. This is music made by a band that has always existed in its own alternative reality, and after three decades, they still invite us to join them there.
For longtime fans, “Wormslayer” reaffirms why Kula Shaker mattered in the first place. For newcomers, it’s a vivid entry point into a catalogue defined by fearless experimentation and spiritual searching. The dragons may be imaginary, but the music is undeniably real. (7/10) (Strange F.O.L.K.)
