The first thing that you need to know about this mini-album from Steve Mason and Martin Duffy, is that it is absolutely nuts. Not just a little bit eccentric, but actually batshit, off-the-charts crazy. The second thing, and the more important factor to know, is that it is utterly fantastic. The product of two musical geniuses locked in a recording studio together, it is, in the words of Duffy: “Music free from the encumberment of a record contract, of radio play or touring schedules”. Buckle up, sit back and enjoy the ride.

Livin’ In Elizabethan Times tells a tale of a planet that has been so thoroughly messed up and ruined (sound familiar?), to the point that the inhabitants ask the universe that “If God lies among you, get him now to start the car/something with a drinks tray, like an Allegro van dans Plas” . A sense of despair at the state of the world has often been a common theme in Mason’s work, but this album takes a more tongue-in-cheek approach. As his distinctive tones lie initially over a persistent, almost Johnny Cash-like rhythm and beat – literally the most grounded that this album gets to be. As trumpets kick in, and space-age synths slink all over the track, it takes flight gloriously (and literally).

Second track ‘The Visitations’ contains a more obvious influence from Duffy, with hints of his Screamadelica vibe apparent in both the trippiness and the slow, deliberate dance beat. It is as if War Of The Worlds is being reimagined while on a vivid acid trip – as the alien visitors arrive and find the planet to their displeasure (“Just for the record, your planet is flat/we hate your religion, your food is too weak”). Someone called Ang-gog-nu chants “Die, die, die, die” alongside what appears to be a group of Daleks supplying backing vocals. Yes, I’m aware of how that sounds. But trust me, it’s fantastic. Musically, it is a perfect amalgamation of both Duffy and Mason’s styles, complementing each other perfectly.

‘The Moon Is Not Your Friend’ begins in a psychedelic haze, before our heroes land on the Moon by accident instead of their intended destination of Mars. Stylistically, the track then transports back in time to a type of 60s art-pop akin to Smile-era Brian Wilson. Nonsensical lyrics are sung over an almost military beat before shooting forwards into ambient psychedelia once more. Mason and Duffy have spoken about the project as almost “Childlike in the approach…music for pleasure, for us.” That transfers effortlessly into the music, with its fun and sense of humour running through its very core and making sure that the listener has as good a time too.

Last track ‘Titanic Dance’, lent an extra dimension by Brendan Lynch’s remix, is exactly how you would want a party at the end of the world to sound like. Balearic beats combined with classic house piano, it sounds like the very best of this pair’s musical heritage in eight and a half thrilling minutes. However just as you think that it was all sounding a bit, well, normal, it turns into a Planet of the Apes pastiche. Of course it does.

To call this a mere mini-album is to do it a disservice. At nearly 30 minutes long, it’s not massively shorter than a lot of so-called full length albums. The key here is the sheer amount of ideas, creativity, and ingenuity, which far outstrip the majority of work currently being produced. It is an EP made with a genuine love both of music itself and, more importantly, a genuine love of the act of making music. You can almost feel the smiles on both Mason and Duffy’s faces throughout, and it can’t help but spread to your own face. If the end of days is coming, then at least we have our soundtrack now.

Jamie MacMillan

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