Hypnagogia remains one of the most mysterious and haunting daily states of mind. Moments of revelation are wont to traditionally hit us particularly in the hinterland between dream and waking, and whilst hallucinations are a key element of the much-vaunted psychedelic experience, the first such taste we’ll tend to have of these in our lifetime, be they image-based, auditory or the afterglow of repetitive activity in the daytime, are in thie realm, It’s this particular headspace that’s very much the world of ‘Pö om pö’, the second Rocket Recordings released full-length record from Sweden’s equally mysterious OCH.

Pö om pö (meaning ‘little by little’) is a journey further into inner

space from ‘II’, the previous Rocket outing (which followed a 2014 cassette only release). It’s a still more expansive and vibrant transmission from the ether which distills kaleidoscopic rapture and oracular intensity from a variety of sources. The excursions here are jam-based in origin but lucid in approach, crepuscular in aspect but uplifting in effect.

What’s mapped out here is a trajectory on the kosmische continuum that touches on the terrain of late -‘70s Sky records style ambience (Cluster, Harald Grosskopf) the more overgrown quarters of Swedish experimental prog (Arbete Och Fritid, Anna Själv Tredje) and the sun-baked lo-fi DIY cassette culture of the US early ‘00s (Sun Araw, Magic Lantern) Although the overarching mood of ‘Pö Om Pö’ is one of

blissed-out indolence, it’s stubbornly averse to the cliches that have beset the psychedelic world this century - no motorik dead-ends or tambourine-shaking two-chord hoedowns to be experienced here. Rather we’re transported to a landscape where drone-based ritualism vies for attention with Faustian abstraction.

Dwelling in a smoke-clouded glow that’s equal parts sunset gold and effects pedal red, OCH have here transcended all influences to creating a tapestry of potent psychotropic sound.

A record in which new horizons open up beyond the small hours, and where primeval wah-wah-abetted skronk and mantric folk-tinged repetition can collude to reveal new third-eye perceptions. Little By Little, Pö om pö, these forty minutes are here to bridge the chasms between conscious and subconscious, and in style.