Anyone lucky enough to tune into a Spiritualized gig circa 1997/8 will need little introduction to Lupine Howl, given that Sean Cook, Mike Mooney and Damon Reece provided the spine of Jason Pierce's finest live band, a unit capable of digging Detroit dirt, Suicide-al minimalism, Velvets drones and white hot Sun Ra, often in the space of one song.

So, naturally enough, this writer's expectations were high. Unfortunately, the first 15 minutes didn't dispel a bad smell, with the opening 'Vaporizer' being a kind of post-baggy Spencer Davis Group romp with crap lyrics.

Elsewhere though, on '125' and 'Lonely Roads', the band are shooting for a kind of Floyd 'n' Jung retro futurism, but the whole shebang skates perilously close to Kula Shaker territory. It's a confused and confusing record, exemplified by 'Sometimes', which begins like a folksy Hawkwind before inexplicably shifting into '60s bachelor pad pop and then a Love-style baroque 'n' roll freakout. The casual listener is left scratching his head rather than getting tripped out of it.

Like Kevin Kline crowed in A Fish Called Wanda:

"DIS-APPOINT-EEEED!!!"