MIEN’s self-titled 2018 debut was one of the freshest and most accessible psychedelic albums of recent years. At the time, the quartet consisted of members of The Earlies, Elephant Stone, The Black Angels and The Horrors, and that kind of lineage brings with it a certain baggage, a certain level of expectation. But despite beginning life as a bit of a psych supergroup, MIEN quickly established a recognisable aesthetic of their own: groovy, dreamy, hypnotic and hugely confident. The follow-up, MIIEN, has been a long time coming, and only three of the original four members remain (Black Angels frontman Alex Maas, sitar/guitar player Rishi Dhir of Elephant Stone and The Earlies’ multi-instrumentalist John-Mark Lapham have now been joined permanently by Golden Dawn Arkestra drummer Robb Kidd), but sonically the band pick up pretty much where they left off seven years ago.
It’s admirable how quickly they get down to business. Within a few seconds of the start of opener Evil People, we find ourselves at the centre of a world of heavy, scuzzy, fuzzy kraut-psych. It rips along at a giddy pace, and it demonstrates MIEN’s most impressive ability: the knack for creating something that sounds genuinely out-there but is contained within the structure of a pop song. The pastoral section that precedes the song’s thumping finale recalls the very best of 60s psych-pop (or perhaps XTC spin-off The Dukes of Stratosphear), while the coda is a bona fide singalong, a stomp that is sure to sound wild in a live setting. The basic elements of that classic acid-rock sound are put to weirder use later on in the album, on Slipping Away, with its pervasive, distorted low-end grumble and dissociative vocals. Imagine the 13th Floor Elevators at their most experimental, add in some Hawkwind heaviness and sprinkle some electronic magic dust over the top and you’d be getting close.
Where similar-minded bands might rely on extended trips into the outer reaches of human consciousness, MIEN administer their hallucinogens in short, sharp bursts. This enables them to try on a bewildering array of influences over the course of an album. Counterbalance marries Broadcast-like beats to Dhir’s sitar. Here, Maas’ vocals are unusually prominent in the mix, floating above the fuzzed-out groove. It’s a new way of presenting vintage sounds, and owes as much to Stereolab or even the Stone Roses as it does to Can or the Electric Prunes or Norwegian Wood.
Lapham plays the role of the glue that sticks MIEN together: the addition of his head-spinning electronic passages provide a perfect balance to the minimal groove of Silent Golden’s insistent rhythm section. Mirror is a sweet, melodic nod to Nico, Cale and the softer side of the first Velvets album until Lapham’s liquid pulses send the song in multiple directions at once. How Could You Run is a windswept slow burner, an object lesson in how subtlety and space can be just as effective in a psychedelic setting as layers of heavy noise (though, as the song’s end section proves, the band are perfectly capable of both approaches).
Empty Sun provides a showcase for Kidd’s sharp, restless drumming and Maas’ malleable voice, which has the ability to go from airy croon to gruff growl via something altogether more glammy and performative. Tungsten is essentially a synth-pop song dressed up in acidic colours and Indian-inspired rhythms: it feels like it shouldn’t work, but it really does, partly because of an innate gift for melody that other bands of this ilk don’t always possess.
But that doesn’t mean that MIIEN lacks in other respects: it’s as warped and lysergic as anything else you’re likely to hear at the moment. Knocking On Your Door is a case in point. A disembodied voice floats freely and uneasily over melting gloop of sounds, ranging from song to speech, and the result is one of the album’s most rewardingly discomfiting moments. Closing track, Morning Echo, is perhaps even better, a mini-epic that displays Kidd’s crunching drums and Maas’ high, haunted singing. Lapham lays down a minimal electronic pulse, like a fried Steve Reich, and MIIEN draws to a celebratory conclusion. None of the album’s songs go much beyond the five-minute mark, but all of them feel like journeys, proof that MIEN truly understand the psychedelic assignment. It’s good to know that there are still bands out there with the will and the talent to take us into the unknown, and to do so in such unexpected and diverse ways.
MIIEN (April 18th, 2025) Fuzz Club
Bandcamp: https://mien.bandcamp.com/album/miien