Listening to ‘Maybe We’, the first of the five tracks on this EP by Liverpudlian experimental four-piece Ninetails, is like sitting in some stoners’ living room with the curtains drawn, overwhelmed (passively or otherwise) by the fumes from some nuclear-strength skunk that someone has been nurturing in a cupboard in his attic, while the television shows David Attenborough documentaries with the volume down and an over-earnest, wide-eyed would-be philosopher tells you about his unifying theory of consciousness, about how we’ve all come from the same atom and will all one day, through the miracle (and curse) of entropy, retreat back into the same atom, and that contained within it (and, by extension, us) is all that we need to make dreams a reality, and visa versa, and that if only we were able to see around the edges of the atom, we might see the answers that elude us, and it’s all fairly dizzying and actually quite interesting, but then you start to feel sick and then (possibly) pass out.

Listening to track two, ‘Body Clock’, is like being the main character in a montage in some glossy drama series with artsy ambitions, possibly after said character has had an apocalyptic argument with their loved one, and is drifting around the city with the judicious use of highly stylised editing techniques and neon light, looking out in a kinda existential way at the cityscape, which suddenly looks totally like the inside of a computer or something, eventually ending up in a psychedelic-looking club that probably wouldn’t ever exist in real life, and finally lying on the ground staring up at the sky as the camera slowly rises upwards, leaving the ramifications to speak for themselves… and then it cuts to an empty forest for a minute and a half for no reason.

Listening to the third track, ‘Rawdon Fever’, is like catching up with the same character later on, and they’ve decided they have to fix things with their loved one at all costs, and they’ve jumped on a bicycle and are pedalling furiously through the rainy night (obviously it has to be raining) and it’s all intercut with footage of their loved one looking pensively out of a window. Then they find them in the forest for no reason and turn into wolves and have a massive fight.

Track four, ‘Boxed In’, is eight minutes of ambient noises, and listening to it is like listening to eight minutes of ambient noises waiting for something else to happen, but it never does.

The fifth track, ‘Mama Aniseed’, is like waking up in the flat from track one the following morning, wondering why you had weird dreams in which you were the main character in some naff drama series which culminated in you turning into a wolf, and leaving the flat and going to get a bacon sandwich which isn’t that nice but is adequate.

If that all sounds good to you, you should listen to this EP.

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