"Got into something dangerous and strange...." Felt’s rushy, sun-dappled Creation-era masterpiece, finally reissued, just in time for the autumn it was surely made to soundtrack. For me, in terms of albums, Lawrence and crew never topped the stoned, sunken majesty of their debut, Crumbling The Antiseptic Beauty, and their one-shot masterpiece remains the Space Blues EP eh, but they come close to rivalling those twin peaks here - propelled by the organ sound of new recruit Martin Duffy, they deliver the most jubilant, light-flooded, life-affirming iteration of the filigree Felt sound there ever was (not to the mention the FASTEST…how much speed were they on?!). Sounding for all the world like someone on the cusp of megastardom rather than addiction issues and terminal cult status, Lawrence sing-talks his way through a set of unguardedly romantic and universally affecting songs which, even at their darkest (‘All The People I Like Are Those That Are Dead’) threaten to knock you over with their sheer something-to-tell-you exuberance. It’s also the first Felt album not to feature any instrumentals. And yet there’s no shortage of texture and atmosphere: I’d forgotten how glorious - and gratuitous! - the vocal harmonies are, and listening to Lawrence’s gleaming Byrdsian guitar interplay with Marco Thomas (truly the sound of rain on crystal spires!) it’s a wonder that he, or anyone else, got so hung up on the departure of original guitar-poet Maurice Deebank. It’s true post-post-punk in that it has absolutely no hang-ups about 60s and 70s rock canon, on the contrary it FEASTS on that canon - and that palpable feeling of liberation and homecoming animates and illuminates the whole record. Just sublime. You either get it or you don’t, and that's fair enough. But there's something wrong with you if you don't.