���Just restocked this 2011 release from the ephemeral duo of Kenneth Anger and Brian Butler (a session player who has performed in the past with Christian Death frontman Rozz Williams and Mark Stewart of The Pop Band) called Technicolor Skull, a short-lived collaboration who released just this one single-sided LP on blood red 180 gram vinyl in a limited edition of six hundred and sixty-six copies via esteemed occult-centric label Ajna Offensive. Anger's name should be familiar to all enthusiasts of dark counter-culture cinema and the more occult-fixated corners of the underground art scene, foremost for his now iconic body of experimental films from the mid-20th century that included Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome, Scorpio Rising, Lucifer Rising, and Invocation of My Demon Brother.

���His latest project Technicolor Skull hardly sounds like the work of a man in his eighties. Released in conjunction with a one-time only live performance at the L.A. Museum of Contemporary Art in 2011, this record features a blast of improvised psychedelia from Anger and Butler that's just as grim as the morbid cover art of a red-hued skull suggests, sprawling out into a vast swirling psychedelic noisescape, the eerie wail and shriek of Anger's theremin rising and swooping across fields of crackling electronic noise and whirring cosmic effects like the cries of alien birdlife and blasts of incandescent laser. As the performance continues to unfold, waves of distorted guitar wash across the side likes tides of black lava, cascades of fractalized acid guitar shred tumble through space, and fuzz-drenched power chords strobe in the blackness. Walls of sputtering black static collapse in slow motion, while bursts of what sound like fluttering woodwinds are swept up in a chortling free-jazz style rush of notes. A massively distorted guitar sputters out a stream of malformed glitchery like the effluvium of a malfunctioning mainframe computer, right before an onslaught of crazed, violent drumming explodes into a storm of percussive power, rising and falling as the performance grows more sinister and more atmospheric, leading into the sound of distant funereal violin and droning electronics, fragments of creepy piano and plumes of howling, mesmeric feedback belching from overdriven amplifiers like incense over the sounds of sampled orchestral scores from ancient horror movies that thunder in the background. A real skull-fuck blast of ghostly black-hole psychedelia that's chaotic and creepy and pretty goddamn mind-melting; I can only imagine what this was like live, with Anger's otherworldly images towering on a screen behind the duo. Immense.