Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to press several effects pedals with a single bound: as modus operandi go, it’s a fitting one for Kinski. This west coast band is slowly but surely becoming a major force in modern American psychrock. Their last album on Sub Pop, Airs Above Your Station, was frighteningly accomplished, give or take a few borrowed Sonic Youth riffs. But, hey! they were good Sonic Youth riffs, so the album ranked pretty highly on the McG riffometer.

And now we turn to their latest recording, a split Kinski/Acid Mothers Temple EP, a "psychrock arms across the Pacific" project, if you would. It came into my possession in a somewhat salubrious manner via El Jefe (that’s me - Roberto), whose eyes alternatively glittered and darkened upon uttering the bands’ names. Turns out that his prior experience with AMT had damaged his critical capabilities, and he needed an objective voice. Well, bring it on…

And "it," thank God, happens to be a round-trip ticket to Wallofsoundville. Kinski kick things off with "Fell Asleep on Your Lawn," a near-perfect slab of pure unadulterated rawk heaven. You can hear the smiles on the faces of the band as they rip through this track, only to pause, catch their breath, wait for the percussion to catch up and then slam back into it again. It’s music that screams out for movement, change, increased velocity, acceleration; at times coming close to distilling the much-missed Swervedriver’s career into one ten-minute trip. A word of warning, though: don’t play it while you’re doing the weekly grocery shop or you’ll be looking at five to ten years for dangerous trolley driving.

The track calms down as it enters its last couple of minutes and morphs into "It’s Nice to Hear Your Voice," ten-minutes out of a joint Kinski/AMT session mixed by Kinski guitarist Chris Martin. This is a very different beast, softly enticing instead of "Fell Asleep…"’s steamrollering. The theme continues into track three; basically a re-run of two, but with this time members of AMT adding some overdubs. Surprisingly, the two tracks are enjoyably different, testaments to both bands abilities to turn original source materials inside-out. Kinski focus on quiet drones and what sounds like tabletop percussion, and AMT subtly play sitar-like guitars that glisten in the mix.

Track four is probably what would have drive El Jefe up the wall (it was - El Jefe). It’s pure, unadulterated AMT, for better or worse. At times a little self-indulgent, at times incredibly compelling, it plays like a compendium of modern psychedelia scrunched into over twenty minutes of experimental jamband madness. For the record, I like it – for all its length, the track never outstays its welcome, and strives to continually re-invent itself and evolve even as it spirals towards the inevitable comedown. Yet I can’t help being a little disappointed – this was less of a true collaboration than I thought it would be. I guess I’ll have to wait a little while for a double gatefold AMT/Kinski live album to satisfy my cravings; until then, this gets an (8/10)