Rogue West African prison-funk from Adrian Orange and his rambling pack of peyote-laced thieves. These are outlaw anthems of life on the margins; Favella-core Latin American punk-hymns to Qaddafi and the insurgency.

Machine gun stabs of sex and danger, love and death, life on the highway and lust in the jungles.

This self-titled release could be considered Adrian Orange's first 'deliberate' album. After touring the country in 2006 with a massive band in two vans (including children and horn players and official dancers) and inventing a new kind of music and living, the band re-materialized in Dub Narcotic Studio in February 2007.

This - the finest group of groove-wailing, wave tearing musicians Orange could find - descended on Olympia in droves from Portland and Anacortes.

The studio is an amazing collection of equipment from an era when recordings were made "live", everything happening on the spot, which was perfect for this new kind of tidal wave.

It's the perfect combination of beautiful accident and deliberate symphony. The end vibe: upbeat and dancy with a hint of lost hippy in a bi-mart parking lot.

This will probably be the last cohesive album of songs by this artist. It is in the process of vanishing in to the all, the beautiful unknown; where obscurely we-will-lay, willie, like lillys or be gulls, indefinitely.

So get in, get out. Their public appearances have been described as powerful, erotic, frightening, baptismal and soulsaving/ destroying.

This incarnation of Thanksgiving is too beautiful for Heaven, and too roughly crazed for Hell.

Don't try to figure it out. Just let them save you. They will. Fuck, they will.