cid Mothers Temple’s Mantra of Love is a swift jaunt through melodic pastures marked by breezy drones, swirling skies of synth washes and Cotton Casino’s harmonious coo, warbling as though from the throats of birds. It seems, on the surface, to be the tranquil rainbow after the boisterous storm that was their last release, Electric Heavyland. AMT, much like their peers Shalabi Effect and Tanakh on the Alien8 label, endeavour to shed further light on the occasionally ashen branches of melodious psychedelia. And while Mantra of Love sees them do just this, the novelty of their work pales in comparison to that of their contemporaries and will probably not inspire a great many newcomer.

“La Le Lo”, a traditional Occitan (a Romance language spoken across the southern third of France) piece, cloaks Casino’s chants in delicate swathes of electric sitar. At its onset, the sitar brims with Eastern hues that are abruptly tattered by oscillating synths and Kawabata Makoto’s hysterical guitar solo filled with harmonic colour and overtones. Along with the Eastern motif, the song’s melody vanishes like the slow onset of winter weather. Hereafter, the piece vacillates between these two polar opposites. Such use of contrast makes the attractive features of each pole (the serene calm of Casino’s mantra and the insatiable mayhem of Makoto’s guitar) all the more distinct and poignant. This effect is dampened only by Makoto’s sometimes barbed tonalities that are initially alluring, but, over twenty minutes, are eventually reduced to impotency. Additionally, Casino’s voice which may have carried Acid Mothers Temple towards grounds previously fallow is largely eschewed, consequently making Mantra of Love a mere shadow of past creations.

The album’s only other track, “L’Ambition dans le Miroir”, consists of an extensive spaced-out guitar drone laced with gurgling electronic buzzes that sound like a bumblebee trapped in sap. A brisk mist of controlled yet chaotic feedback is sprayed onto a gritty, echoing drone like paint flung at a canvas, allowing Casino’s lilting sighs abundant space to roam. As dusk falls on the song, instruments begin to nod off into sleep, leaving a multi-tracked breathy drone to induce a trance-like state.

Throughout, Makato demonstrates a knack for plucking churning motifs from his instrument, his hand acting as the waterwheel drawing power from the river of notes. In spite of this, Acid Mothers Temple have been drawing water from this river through many a seasons change and while their waterwheel still functions admirably, it would benefit from a few new parts. Old parts have a tendency to rust. And, more importantly, are exhausting to watch over and over again.