Albumreview by: Jan Vranken

Thirty years is a long time to keep the psychedelic flame burning. Most bands from the Britpop era have either disbanded, reunited for nostalgia tours, or mellowed into middle-aged irrelevance. Kula Shaker, however, have taken a different path. With *Wormslayer*, their eighth studio album, Crispian Mills and his original lineup prove they’re still capable of conjuring the same mystical energy that made them Britpop’s most gloriously weird outliers—only now, they’re doing it with the confidence of veterans who’ve got nothing left to prove.

The album kicks off with ‘Lucky Number’, and within seconds, you’re transported into Kula Shaker’s singular universe. A brief sitar meditation gives way to a full-throttle psychedelic rocker that recalls the swagger of Oasis but filtered through a kaleidoscope of Indian mysticism and ’60s garage rock. It’s a statement of intent: this isn’t a band chasing past glories 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-esque phased vocals—think ‘Love You To’-era George Harrison—before erupting into a funk-infused psychedelic workout. The track is part of a larger narrative 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 album’s emotional spectrum is impressively broad. ‘Be Merciful’, a track that originated as a bootleg demo nearly two decades ago, offers soulful respite amid the album’s more bombastic moments. The production, courtesy of electronic pioneer Mark Pritchard, blends analog warmth with live band energy, creating a spacious, haunting atmosphere. Then there’s ‘Day for Night’, an 80-second acoustic detour that sounds like Woody Guthrie channeled through a psilocybin haze—brief, folksy, and utterly charming.

Jay Darlington’s return on 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’. That latter track, with its marching percussion and choir-like vocals, feels like Pink Floyd’s *Meddle* reimagined as a spiritual journey. It’s the kind of expansive, transcendent moment that made ‘Govinda’ such a revelation back in the ’90s—proof that Kula Shaker’s mysticism isn’t just window dressing but the very essence of their sound.

The title track is *Wormslayer*’s most audacious gambit: seven and a half minutes of mantra-metal that builds layer upon layer of sound into a hypnotic, almost overwhelming wall of psychedelic fury. It’s prog rock without the self-indulgence, Eastern drone without the pretension. Some critics have found it overlong, and admittedly, 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 works perfectly. The album can feel uneven in places, with ‘Little Darling’—a glam-rock ballad with Roy Orbison overtones—feeling somewhat formulaic compared to the more adventurous tracks surrounding it. And yes, there are moments when the band’s prog tendencies threaten to overwhelm the punchy immediacy of their best songs. But these are minor quibbles in 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 to an album that manages to be simultaneously rooted in classic rock tradition and utterly unbothered by contemporary trends. This is music made by a band that has always existed in its own alternate reality—and after three decades, they’re still inviting us to join them there.

For longtime fans, *Wormslayer* reaffirms why Kula Shaker mattered in the first place. For newcomers, it’s a vibrant entry point into a catalogue defined by fearless experimentation and spiritual seeking. The dragons may be imaginary, but the music is undeniably real.

**(7.5/10) (Strange F.O.L.K.)**