One rotation around the sun on from the creation of its first satellite, Justin Robertson’s Five Green Moons project now shares the occult “lesser light” of its neighbour, Moon 2. Similar to its predecessor the set stirs Robertson’s musical and literary influences in a willfully witchy, wyrd pot, or rather cauldron. 

Deep dub bass forms the foundation for everything. The sound of `70s roots inspiring `80s post-punk. Robbie Shakespeare via Jah Wobble. In places, overdriven, buzzing, distorted. Wobble’s outfit PiL remain a clear point of reference. Particularly on tracks such as Come On Kallisti, with its tight, looped rhythm, abstract twang and trumpet blasts.

The guitar throughout flashes between switchblade sharp Link Wray rock ’n’ roll rumbles and scratchy, angular homages to Wobble’s late compadre Keith Levene, or perhaps Marc Ribot. On Sense Receding these shapes resemble / assemble a psyche, zither-like riff, before being stretched, pulled backwards into Robertson’s beloved beyond. The exception is the loose, laidback, Boudica, whose circuits twitter beneath a folky, acoustic strum. 

The horn, on numbers such as Calling OS, suggests Don Cherry, or Miles Davis in need of a fix. Free, exotic, the jazz of the `50s beats on a bender. The result like the Sabres Of Paradise scoring Burroughs and Gysin lost in Marrakech. Clickety Clack, too, bears the mark of The Sabres, and also their sonic spars, Red Snapper. Its tribal thump, and timbale rattle, banging out a stripped back funk, recalling Gramme doing ESG. 

The album’s vocals consist of largely spoken poetry and prose. Spooky chants and incantations. Scary recitals of dystopians tracts that could have been torn from the pages of one of Robertson’s novels. First Tower Of Babel, an unsettling, dark, drugged, menacing fable, for example, tells of “the collapse of the building blocks of sanity.” These are sometimes serrated, treated snippets. Arriving, hitting in washes and waves. A couple of the cuts feature Brix Smith, ex of The Fall. On Lost In The Static she delivers a rap regarding derangement of the senses above fidgeting, fractured drum programming and a half-speed, skanking groove. While sounding a little like Mark Stewart, This Chant Is God’s Voice’s “repetition is ritual” is another overt nod / tribute to Mark  E. Smith’s seminal outfit.

Soundsystem soundclash effects shower the proceedings. Extravagant turns of high-pass filters seemingly applied, fiddled with live, on the fly. B-movie UFOs dodging gurgling wah-wah, delayed ricochets and heavily echoed drums. While the album is most definitely experimental, and certainly not pop, or aimed at the dance floor, stuff like the tropical groundation of Sa Sae and the levee-breaking, lithe, more light-hearted Ridges Of Bark are sure to get any funky alternative party started. 

Five Green Moons’ “most excellent” Moon 2 can be checked and preordered at Juno, Phonica and Dubwise Vinyl, care of Solitary Cyclist.