If there's such a thing as cred in psychedelic music, Prince Rama have got it. The three-piece, comprising sisters Taraka and Nimai Larson and friend Michael Collins, grew up in a Hare Krishna community where their version of Sunday mass was a ceremony with people "chanting and dancing and freaking out," they told us back in June. Some of their tracks are based on Sanskrit chants, and they rep artists like Paul Laffoley, a dude who makes paintings about time machines and wormholes. No surprise, then, that they caught the ear of Animal Collective and got scooped up by the band's Paw Tracks imprint.
Shadow Temple is Prince Rama's fourth record, and it's less noisy than previous efforts but still pretty raw and unrestrained-- more about energy than structure. The band doesn't use a ton of instruments (tribal drumming, chugging synths, and crunching guitars are the main components) but its tracks are sonically dense and propulsive. The album has a nice element of surprise. "Om Namo Shivaya" is sort of fluid and droning, but once you give into its haze, a buzzing electric guitar line pops out of nowhere to jerk you back into reality. The band also does well with mood: Even though most of the lyrics aren't discernable, you still get a clear sense of foreboding from these songs.
There aren't many hooks on this record, and the tempo shifts are sometimes subtle, so it can feel overwhelming-- kind of a constant onslaught of sound. This is a taste issue, but if you require a respite now and again, it might be a difficult listen. The other issue I have with Shadow Temple centers on how the band treats its vocals. Most of the singing comes from the Larson sisters, who have airy falsettos that could provide great contrast if they weren't always buried in the mix. "Thunderdrums", all clattering percussion and heavy, moaning guitar, feels cloudy and half-finished with the Larsons' chants washed out in the background.
After a few bumpy moments in the middle stretch, Prince Rama hit a nice stride toward the end of the record. The final two songs, "Satt Nam" and "Raghupati", are arguably the best. It's here where the band finally open things up-- arrangements aren't as cluttered, vocals are clearer, and each instrument has room to breathe. Particulary on "Satt Nam", which has a memorable synth melody and a throbbing club undercurrent like something out of a Crystal Castles track, you start to get a sense of how this band's psych experiments-- which can be heady and evocative on their own-- might become something more.
