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| Nme |
 The Aliens shouldn’t exist in 2008. They’re too unusual, too bloody-minded to be allowed to release records. Yeah, sure, Noel Gallagher and Thom Yorke loved The Beta Band, the group that spawned The Aliens (and when have they ever agreed on anything?), but really, if you were running a label and if it was your money, would you release their records? Really? Of course you would, because you’re open-minded enough to be reading this review when you could be reading something else on this page about some scrag-end rip-off of The Libertines or Klaxons or something. The good news is that The Aliens are free to release what they like after leaving their major label. So in contrast to their debut album’s wonky-pop approach, ‘Luna’ exudes a woozy, hallucinatory quality. Songs take multiple tangential turns and suddenly swell with head-spinning instrumentation and arrangements. Guitars sound like everything from Neil Young’s fractious mid-’70s soloing (‘Boats’) to the foggy ominousness of the Twin Peaks theme (‘Daffodils’) while keyboards are frequently played by anything up to one finger. Incidentally, it also appears the whole album was mixed, despite claims to the contrary, somewhere in a suburb of Atlantis....full text |
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| Guardian |
| Their first album might have been a meandering disappointment – proving that vaulting musical ambition often infuriates as much as inspires – but the group formed from the ashes of the Beta Band have finally come up trumps. Managing to coalesce their disparate influences (Glen Campbell, hip hop, T.Rex and seafaring shanties all pop up on 'Bobby's Song') , Luna is a psychedelic delight....full text |
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| Guardian |
| from Beta Band survivors the Aliens, contains within its 10-minute span spiralling organ, wibbling synths, Abbey Road harmonies, backwards loops, and a crazed sea shanty. The effect is not so much of fearless adventurers charting music's outer limits than Homer Simpson scoffing hallucinogens. Most of the Aliens' freak-out tropes were minted 40 years ago, right down to Gordon Anderson's persistent habit of mimicking original acid casualty Syd Barrett. It's enjoyable in a rambling, frazzled way, but Anderson gets lost behind all these masks until the last two songs. Boats, which sounds like the sun rising over Laurel Canyon after a heavy night, and the battered, beautiful Blue Mantle make a moving finale to an otherwise frustrating record....full text |
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