Welcome to the entry for the most confusing album release of all time! It’s going to be a long one, and the only real way to cover it all is chronologically. Strap yourselves in, cosmic lovers.
The story begins in late 1996. By the time it came out, Dead Cities was six months old, and that’s a long time for musicians who work as fast as Brian and Gaz do. By the time of the album’s ISDN tour, they’d been in Dead Cities mode for 18 months, and needing a change. Gaz, in particular, was beginning to crave something more immediately expressive in music. Before meeting Brian, he had been the frontman and songwriter in bands, and after many years of faceless electronica, he wanted to bring some of that back into his life. Indeed, there are hints of it on Dead Cities itself: the vocal introduction to ‘Everyone in the World is Doing Something Without Me‘ had been picked from a full demo called ‘I Need to Re-Calibrate’ Gaz had recorded at his home studio; ‘Dead Cities‘ itself ends with Gaz singing, and leads into his guitar playing on ‘Her Face Forms in Summertime‘. At this point, it was simply a desire, and in interviews he was still very involved in the FSOL broadcast system: he spoke enthusiastically to GLR about multimedia, promising that “in the new year, in fact, we’re taking that one step further and we’re going to be transmitting live to TV and radio.”
The desire for change may have come at least partially from the band spending more time outside of the studio, both in a positive and negative way. Gaz spent a lot of time in 1995 being very hedonistic – in 2002 he would tell Echoes “I think Brian had gotten a little bit tired of seeing a very wasted sort of guy standing at the door talking about how he’d taken loads of drugs and got laid and almost celebrating this excess” – but, having quit that lifestyle, had started to explore the world around him more, and seemed in a better place, mentally. There are worrying moments in 1994 interviews where being cooped up in EarthBeat seems to have been taking its toll on him, particularly this moment in an extensive Melody Maker article: “The degree of control Brian and I exercise over our music and our lives is deeply unhealthy. There are a lot of negatives, and I’m thinking very hard whether I want to carry on, because this is making me really unhappy. We don’t even achieve what we’re trying to do. Where’s it all going to end?” Compare this to the interviews found on 1996 radio bootlegs, and he appears to have undergone a rapid transformation into someone far happier and healthier. The other key quote from 1994 would likely be “hopefully another side of me will come out one day, probably away from the techno bracket. I seemed to get asked a lot of technology questions, which kind of sits ill at ease with me and what I’m like.” While the idea of Gaz writing the tunes and Brian being the engineer is a bit of a generalisation, both of them seem to find some truth in it. “The best tracks have elements of both us, though. I’m fairly melodic in the way that I work, and Brian is prepared to spend that extra time on the desk getting the sound right,” and “Gaz is good at writing tunes but he doesn’t choose his sounds properly, and I think that’s what I’m good at, choosing sounds that work together,” are both very telling quotes. So desiring a change from this, he began to return to his roots, considering singing and playing guitar again. At the time, he would also make reference to practicing meditation and attending hypnotherapy sessions, clearly in a hope of getting his head straight.
Around this time, he met Ian Astbury, having recently left the band he is best known for, The Cult. The pair bonded over a love of both songwriting and sonics, and this fed into the idea behind the new approach. Gaz and Ian came up with a list of ten rules for the integration of the psychedelic song into electronic music, and called it The Mojo Filter. By this point it was becoming obvious that the next FSOL album was going to significantly feature vocals: not inherently a strange thing, as it had happened before, and many of their peers included guest vocalists on their albums. “We wanted a form of music which had lyrics but wasn’t dependent on being ‘catchy’, but was more a 50/50 blend of sound sonic and enigmatic visual poetry.” Together, the three came up with a piece called ‘The Shining Path’, the final two minutes featuring Astbury on vocals. It was broadcast on the band’s ISDN transmission to Radio 3’s Mixing It programme in March 1997. Eventually the track was considered a bit too dark – unsurprising, given that it was born out of the remains of ‘We Have Explosive’ – but seen as a good starting point. At this point, both Gaz and Brian had started expanding their music tastes, picking up intriguing looking second hand records in places such as Brick Lane, the music proving more surprising – and a lot cheaper – than the dance music that was around at the time. A lot of this ended up as sample fodder, of course, and began to feed into the new music they were producing. Tracks like ‘Exchanged’, ‘Popadom’, ‘East Pacifica’ and the untitled track that would eventually become ‘Theram’, heard on 1997’s Peel Session and Fun Radio broadcasts, continued this move into psych-rock-laden breaks. Eventually, much of this new listening matter was pieced together for the first Monstrous Psychedelic Bubble Exploding in Your Mind mix, initially considered for release by both Virgin and Mixmag, and eventually – and more realistically – broadcast to Manchester’s Kiss 102. The purpose behind the show’s conception was less obviously commercial: Gaz described it as being “initially conceived as an internal document of intent – a bunch of tracks culled from the annuls of time that for us represented the way forward”. The blend of classical Indian instrumentation, psychedelic rock, folk, breakbeats, film scores and sampling was to be the template for what the fifth FSOL album would sound like.
At the same time, Gaz’s friendship with Ian Astbury resulted in him being invited to stop with Astbury in LA. The inner rock’n’roll kid inside Gaz was thrilled, and he took up the opportunity willingly. After a few days of hedonism, tourism and retail therapy, the shine began to wear off, however, and he took a trip to Colorado to an alternative religion and spirituality centre for a weekend of Zen meditation. Upon returning to LA, the experience feeling more sour after his meditation, he had numerous adventures – a trip to San Francisco with a stranger, spending a night with a homeless couple, getting his first tattoo – many of which were later recounted in the Ramblings of a Madman section of the official website. Eventually tiring of the falseness of his surroundings, Gaz moved on. One way or another, he ended up in Mexico, and an underlying discomfort began to turn into illness. It was here that he found a doctor who introduced him to the controversial idea of mercury poisoning from fillings. Gaz dutifully got his removed, and began to feel better. Having benefited from alternative medicine and religion, India typically beckoned, and there he began to study meditation and other spiritual practices, as well as write songs. Some of these he recorded to tape and sent back to London.
At this point, Brian was beginning to worry. There’s a wonderful bit in a Guardian interview from late 2001, in which he talks about it. “I used to stand outside Gaz’s house and wonder if he was in. Is he there? Where is he? Who the fuck is he anyway? No phone calls for weeks on end. No Gaz. Is he still my mate? Is he in England? Where the fuck is he now?” He tracked Cobain’s progress via his Visa card bills. “He’s reached his limit. He’ll be back soon. Oh no, he’s extended it!” Brian was still heading to Dollis Hill to work on music, and of course both Leon Mar and Simon Wells, whose music had been released on the band’s EBV label in 1997 and was generally considered an inspiration behind the new direction, were there to work with him. As the tapes arrived, he began to look at how to incorporate these elements into new material, learning recording techniques and trying out new software that could cope with longer, more detailed sessions. The earliest sessions at Earthbeat were typically DIY – Gaz describes a vocal booth adapted from the room with the sink into which Brian used to piss – but gradually, newer kit was being collected. Brian told Overload Media about how he envisioned this demos developing: “my idea was to jam through Gaz’s songs and build them from his guitar with the samplers – two guys jamming with acoustics and electronics.”
Eventually, Gaz returned to the UK. It having been months since they last saw each other, the original meetings began with awkward bike rides in the country. Having always been a city-based pair, the country was a new setting, and Brian was initially uncertain; Gaz, on the other hand, had told Robotnik “maybe London is actually on the decline for me as a notion,” way back in 1996. They would take walkmans and portable speakers to play each other new bits of music they’d begun to work on. It was on one of these bike rides that Gaz fell and broke his leg, which proved to be a pivotal moment. As he stayed at home to recover, he picked up his guitar again and pushed the new approach further, moving from song fragments into full songs: ‘Divinity’, ‘The Peppermint Tree’, ‘The Galaxial Pharmaceutical’ and so on. As he continued to write, and practice his newfound love of yoga, meditation and such, he stayed at home for longer periods, even after his ankle had healed. At this point, Brian, too, had moved to Shoreditch, and it seemed as if the best way to get Gaz to come to the studio was to bring the studio to Gaz: Earthbeat was abandoned in favour of a new studio space in Old Street, once home to The Shamen. It was dubbed The Galaxial Pharmaceutical, and decked out in all the latest gear, including a live room.
“Brian calls me a traditional prick these days.” An interview quote from 1996, there. “There’s a battle going on in the studio as we speak, between the two of us, yeah. Maybe. Maybe it’s the only way to go, actually.” As is that. “The pair are reticent about revealing details of the next FSOL album, but hint towards it being much more song-based, structurally.” That one’s from 1998, although took place in 1997. By early ’98, things had gone a lot further, and the songs samplers idea went out of the window. Brian’s feeling: “Gaz, on the other hand, had more grandiose ideas which involved the full prog rinse: orchestras, drummers, bass players, sitar players, choirs etc.” This is effectively the point where the sessions stopped being part of the fifth FSOL album, and became The Isness. Gaz “pretty much controlled the ship and guided the musical structures,” with Brian “feeding the engine and making sure everything ran smoothly and sounded correct”. Ever the socialite, Gaz began to invite musicians into the studio to record. Some of these for fortuitous, others intentional; from a Whisperin’ & Hollerin’ interview:
“Brian and I had an argument about how the basslines worked on our old stuff,” remembers Gaz. “We both love Herbie Flowers’ bass playing, so we paid him about £200 to come in and play.”
Another major change in the band’s circumstances was the loss of Rob Manley, their A&R guy at Virgin. Replaced by someone referred to only as ‘Brown Eye’, in the first Ramblings of a Madman zine, not only the group’s relationship with the label began to grow distant, but also there was little guidance given to the band themselves: Manley understood their music and, as part of his job, could give useful advice; the new guy was considered a bit of a yes man and, thus, was unable to really fill the hole Manley left. And thus the album’s sessions went on, and on, and on, having tentatively begun in late ’96, and only coming to a close in 2001, four and a half years later. In this time, around 70 musicians had been involved, from those they’d worked with before – Max Richter, who helped record instruments, as well as providing orchestration on several tracks, and even co-producing some; Riz Maslen, providing vocals; Richie Thomas, who was present at the start of the sessions while also preparing his (still unreleased) Big Mind Explosion album for EBV – to many new friends who would form part of the Amorphous band over the years to come, and a lot of one-off guest spots. Brian kept the whole thing afloat with his newfound expertise with using Macs, while, in his words, “Garry has definitely guided this project. He has driven it, and I have helped. When Garry was sick, I fucked around with computers.” In 1999, several completed tracks were given to an unidentified friend, from whom they leaked onto last.fm many years later; these included the finished version of ‘Elysian Feels’, a couple of separate segments of ‘The Galaxial Pharmaceutical’, and early versions of ‘The Isness’, ‘Theram’ ‘The World is Full of Plankton’. Multiple mixes of the album were made, with many recurring tracks, but also several that would change from mix to mix. Snippets of news were given to Nick Woodfine’s fansite via management, including a major change in direction, and a first single – due around Christmas 1998 – called ‘Little Miss Divinity’. After 1999, silence resumed. And, eventually, in 2001, the album was finished, named Galaxial Pharmaceutical and delivered to Virgin. The label’s response was to drop them. ‘Brown Eye’ was made redundant shortly afterwards.
In defence of Virgin, after five years – and at this point, that wasn’t the usual gap between albums that it is today – an album at least partially unrecognisable as the same band was not the comeback they were after. Even a more traditional FSOL album would have been very difficult to market in that post-Kid A musical landscape; The Orb’s Cydonia received terrible reviews in 2001, with many complaining about how backwards looking at ’90s it sounded. IDM was the word of the day, electronic music-wise, and if an album didn’t have some similarities with Warp artists like Aphex Twin, Autechre or Squarepusher, it was considered a bit naff. Ironically, The Isness went on to receive far better reviews than most ’90s acts of the time, even getting compared to Kid A in its blend of songs and electronics. Gaz was unsurprised at Virgin’s decision: “They told us we’d lose our fanbase if we came out with something like this. So we decided to part company. Amicably, of course. I suppose they were just playing it safe.” Getafixx’s video interview after August’s Big Chill DJ set features Gaz speaking very uncertainly about the band’s future with the label, giving a rough timeframe for when the decision was made. Shortly afterwards, the official site was updated to announce that a new Amorphous Androgynous album was coming. Intriguingly, the decision not to release it as FSOL came very late in the day, after much discussion in the band about whether this was really a FSOL album or not. Quite why the name was chosen remains unknown, and it does seem like an odd choice: the previous Amorphous album, Tales of Ephidrina, was effectively FSOL in all but name, so surely a completely new name would have made more sense. That said it, once again, ties in with Dead Cities interviews, notably the Dot Talent article in which Gaz’s final words were “there may not be a Future Sound of London in a few years’ time, It would be nice to be Amorphous Androgynous again.” How prophetic is that?
While record deals were being sorted, the band busied themselves with further projects: Gaz began to DJ on stage for the first time, new radio mixes were made and broadcast, the band’s new direction was previewed on the Robert Miles remix and their own 10th anniversary reworkings of ‘Papua New Guinea’. New interviews gave a much shortened version of everything you’ve just read. A promotional video called ‘Psychedelic Manifesto’ previewed clips of ‘Chawawah’, ‘The Mello Hippo Disco Show’ and two tracks that would find their way onto later Amorphous albums. Eventually, a new record deal was signed with Artful/Fullfill, a Universal Records offshoot licensing music from artists’ own sublabels, in this case Future Sound of London Recordings. Thus Brian and Gaz gained a significant amount of control over the release, without losing the promotional benefits of major label backing. And, then, things started to get really complicated.
The news page from 2002 on my old Second Thought website gives some idea of the amount of rumours and confusion that circulated during the first half of the year, as details of the album began to emerge. Channel 4’s Planet Sound Teletext service were the first to announce the release date as 27th May, on 10th April 2002. The album was mastered at Abbey Road in February, still under the name Galaxial Pharmaceutical; the final name change to The Isness must have been a very last minute decision. Five days later the official site declared it to be 3rd June. A couple of weeks later, online store CDZone announced a pre-order to be shipped on 27th May. On the same day, an eBay auction appeared for the new album; I messaged the seller and she kindly sent over the tracklist, which had been altered from the version shared on the official site the previous year; a day later, Artful announced the release date had been put back to 3rd August. After a very nerve-wracking evening, I managed to win the auction for £65 – a ludicrous amount of money for a 17 year old in 2002 – and waited for it to come in the post. In the meantime, the official website announced yet another release date – 29th July – with the addition that the tracklist had yet to be finalised. An extensive interview came along in Muzik Magazine, combined with a glowing review declaring the album to be worth a Spinal Tap-esque 6/5, declaring it “a beam of white light from heaven.” It was then announced the album would come out in the US on August 13th, through Hypnotic, who’d previously licensed their Jumpin’ & Pumpin’ releases for US distribution. I eventually received my copy, and listened to literally nothing else for a fortnight. I wrote a track-by-track review and put in on my site, along with a few 30 second clips, with permission. And a few weeks later, the album leaked from a promo. And that’s when things started to get weird.
“I’ve been working on this record for five years, and there are about 20 different versions of it recorded. I loved that incarnation Muzik reviewed, but it just had too much male energy, too much darkness. I wanted to get away from all that bullshit. The fact is that I could carry on working on this album forever, but I had to stop somewhere.”
Gaz decided the version of the album that had already been sent out as promos and, in the US, been manufactured as the main album, wasn’t good enough. And so he and Brian went back to the studio and reworked it. So far, so odd. But Artful’s following decision screwed things up big time: the new promo was packaged in the old sleeve, meaning every single review of the album referenced incorrect titles. Some people on the FSOLLIST talked about hating ‘Yes My Brother’, and although it felt a little pointless to me, I didn’t get the hate, until I downloaded the leak and realised it was actually ‘Divinity’. Whoever reviewed the album for Pitchfork must have been keeping track, because almost every title in that review is actually correct. I still see copies of this version on file sharing services to this day. The next lot of promos that went out featured the correct tracklist printed and stuck inside the sleeve, but it was too little too late. And not only did they change the running order and swapp a couple of tracks, but many of the versions differ dramatically over the two versions: most notably the radically different arrangements of ‘The Mello Hippo Disco Show’ and ‘The Galaxial Pharmaceutical’, but also subtly in the likes of ‘Divinity’ and ‘Go Tell it to the Trees Egghead’. And, then, when the final version came along, it turned out to be yet another mix of the album, different again from the second promo, with an added title track and a slightly shorter version of ‘Mello Hippo’. Not content with releasing a musically confusing album, they also managed to boggle the mind with how it was released.
And then Hypnotic refused to release it as Amorphous Androgynous in the US. Clearly only interested in making as much money from the FSOL name as possible, the label, having licensed the album, put it out with The Future Sound of London on the front, and a press release not even hinting at the change in sound. To this day, some people are convinced it’s an FSOL album rather than an Amorphous Androgynous one because of this. Not feeling this was enough of a fuckup, they also “accidentally” put out the 2,500 copies of the earlier version they’d manufactured. These were officially recalled, although a lot made their way into stores and fans collections, to the extent that it’s possible to see this version referred to as the FSOL mix and the final mix as the Amorphous Androgynous version, due to this only happening in the US. The earlier version is most widely known as the ‘mispressed’ version, although the official name is Abbey Road version. Throw in the spelling mistakes – ‘Her Tongue is Loke a Jellyfish’ and ‘engineered by Gage’, and the whole thing was an absolute mess. It is of no surprise that the band have never worked with Hypnotic since; when the label attempted to reissue the album in its Abbey Road format in 2012 – just before the 10 year license was up – it was stopped after the band found out; it’s quite likely they were trying to sell their recalled stock.
And just when things couldn’t get any more baffling, a 2LP version came along with a tracklist shifted around to fit the format, and an additional track not on the CD version, entitled ‘Chawawah’, first heard on the ‘Psychedelic Manifesto’ video the previous year. A promo CDr then circulated in the UK, featuring an exclusive edit of ‘Divinity’. In 2004, almost all of the extant material finally found its way together in a 2CD package called The Isness & The Otherness. Years later, Gaz admitted on Facebook that he feels the Abbey Road version is the superior of the two and regrets changing the album, with the loud mastering from Abbey Road being the culprit behind the “masculine energy” on that version. That version eventually received a belated vinyl release for Record Store Day 2018; inevitably, it turned out to be another alternative mix. This version is present on the Amorphous Bandcamp page.
And what of the music itself? Despite the obvious major differences, a lot of it is still very FSOL. First of all, it’s ludicrously varied. I’ve often described it as sounding like a psychedelic compilation as much as the work of a single artist, containing everything from breakbeat and sound collage to Indian classical music, country, psychedelic pop, progressive rock, acoustic balladry and instrumental funk. There are five songs, the rest being instrumental, which is somewhat at odds with how the project began; many of the instrumentals really aren’t that far off sounding like FSOL, especially the likes of ‘Elysian Feels’ and ‘Her Tongue is Like a Jellyfish’. The songs themselves are the biggest changes, especially ‘Divinity’, which is a world away from anything they had released before. Production-wise, the album is thick and dense, like FSOL, with many tracks being largely loop-based; several, particularly those from early in the sessions, feature samples. Live drums and ’60s recordings were chopped up to make into breakbeats. Despite the big, ostentatious sound, it’s maybe slightly more ‘lo-fi’ than one would expect from FSOL; the sessions were a learning curve, and FSOL being FSOL, they took a DIY approach, discovering how to record and mix sounds and instruments as they went along. Other than the songs, the biggest difference from the band’s ’90s work is the complete lack of environments and segues. Other than the 2002 Abbey Road cut featuring a subtle crossfade between ‘The Mello Hippo Disco Show’ and ‘Goodbye Sky (Reprise)’, no tracks are joined in any way. This makes it feel more like a traditional rock album, and very un-FSOL, possibly more than any other aspect of the album.
Reception was… mixed. The press response was largely very positive, with many reviews praising the album’s boldness, its scope, its production and its humour; some, however, felt it was a poor retread of the past and at odds with what listeners would want from a previously forward-looking band. Fan response led to some very interesting, and very angry, arguments at the time, with a lot of people loathing the album. Many were those who hadn’t followed the minutiae of the band’s return, and simply expected another FSOL record; unsurprisingly, many of these were disappointed. The group’s flirtation with more psychedelic imagery, even in the ’90s, meant they’ve always had enough of a fanbase with the right taste for the album to ensure many were delighted; similarly, they have also had a sizeable fanbase within the IDM world, who were largely appalled by the record. Despite the odds, first week sales were strong enough for the album to reach 68 in the UK Top 100. It would be their last charting album, however, with many fans feeling let down; Artful’s decision to put “The Future Sound of London Present” stickers on the cover meant that, despite the band trying their best to promote the new project correctly, the album was still listed as an FSOL album called “Amorphous Androgynous: Isness” on most online stores, and placed in the dance music section of record shops. Inevitably, the corporate machine destroyed the opportunity for the record to be received as it was intended, as a new musical project rather than a new FSOL album. Combined with the US release’s complete misnaming, it was effectively career suicide, no matter how much they might have argued that it wasn’t FSOL. Even on the FSOLLIST, which had been sharing and discussing the seven psychedelic DJ mixes bootlegged to that point, the Robert Miles remix, Papua New Guinea Translations, the various pages on the official site with clips of the album and text about the radical change in style and interviews about the new approach, one regular poster expressed disappointment, as he had been expecting the album to sound like Dead Cities. Tough crowd. Thankfully, enough fans enjoyed the album to stick with the band, with many picking and choosing their favourite moments, and others – myself included – believing the album to be a masterpiece (the Abbey Road version, in my case). And not only did the press mostly appreciate the record, but radio DJs were similarly impressed, and the band were afforded the opportunity to promote the album with a mix of Amorphous material, followed by a continuation of their Monstrous Psychedelic Bubble DJ mixes; within a year, live DJ shows picked up again, with added live instrumentation, and Amorphous Androgynous appearing on the bill (if sometimes, still, with The Future Sound of London alongside).
Artwork-wise, The Isness is probably a bigger departure than the music itself. The front cover, depicting pinhole photos of a naked woman – Katie – comes from photographer Jim Cherry, and is not the least FSOL-like image around (particularly given that she looks dead); the rest of the booklet is a different affair. Largely collaged by Gaz, it features a large number of photographs of the band, Katie, flowers, the various musicians on the record, and the Galaxial Pharmaceutical studio, mostly warped, layered and digitally shaded in a manner which could be described as either ‘charmingly slapdash’ or ‘amateurish’, depending on your particular stance. There’s none of the landscape photography of the ’90s, and of course no Vit, Sheuneen or Spikey. Buggy is nowhere to be found at all. Two pages of psychedelic gobbledegook – or “liner notes”, as they’ve been called – by Donovan open the booklet, and a similar spread of thanks can be found at the end. Each track gets its own page in the booklet, with lyrics – where applicable – and swathes of credits. A day out to a house with large animal sculptures outside forms a lot of the photography, taken by Brian using his newfound interest in pinhole photography; these co-star musician Park, who is due to release an album on FSOLDigital any time this century. In suitably whimsical fashion Gaz is holding a double bass, and Brian a tuba. For the US release, four additional pages are added (as well as the spelling mistakes); the mispress release, however, comes with an eight page booklet with no photography, merely lyrics and credits. The earlier cover – present on both the mispress CD and promo versions – features an altered version of the Katie image, flipped, squashed and with a more orangey tint. The Isness was the band’s first release not to just come in a jewel case: the initial UK pressing came in a burgopak – effectively two trays in a cardboard slipcase; pulling one tray out pushes the other out the other side – before a standard jewel case version followed; the US mispress version being a rare example of a FSOL digipak release. Keen to include all the photography and artwork, the decision was even made to include the CD booklet inside the gatefold vinyl sleeve. The fonts are generally all cursive – once again, no sign of the typical FSOL microgramma, or anything similar – and occasionally quite garish. No need to mention it, really, but the EBV logo is, of course, absent.
And I think that’s about it. For comparisons of alternate versions, see the track-by-track pages. And for credits, too, I’m not filling this page with hundreds of musician references.
Release date: 27th July 2002
Other issues:
The Isness & The Otherness
The Isness (The Abbey Road Version)
Tracklists
CD (FSOLCD101 / FSOLCD102 / CLP 1206-2 / CLP-CD- 8095 / 2234-2 / 2600-2)
1. The Lovers
2. The Isness
3. The Mello Hippo Disco Show
4. Goodbye Sky (Reprise)
5. Elysian Feels
6. Go Tell it to the Trees Egghead
7. Divinity
8. Guru Song
9. Osho
10. Her Tongue is Like a Jellyfish
11. Meadows
12. High Tide on the Sea of Flesh
13. The Galaxial Pharmaceutical
2LP (FSOLLP101)
A1. The Lovers
A2. High Tide on the Sea of Flesh
A3. The Mello Hippo Disco Show
B1. Divinity
B2. Guru Song
B3. Osho
B4. Her Tongue is Like a Jellyfish
B5. Meadows
C1. Elysian Feels
C2. Goodbye Sky (Reprise)
C3. Go Tell it to the Trees Egghead
C4. Chawawah
C5. The Isness
D. The Galaxial Pharmaceutical
Promo / Mispress CD (FSOL101 / CLP 1206-2)
1. Elysian Feels
2. The Mello Hippo Disco Show
3. Goodbye Sky (Reprise)
4. Osho
5. The Galaxial Pharmaceutical
6. Yes My Brother
7. Go Tell it to the Trees Egghead
8. Divinity
9. Guru Song
10. Her Tongue is Like a Jellyfish
11. Meadows
12. High Tide on the Sea of Flesh
13. Goodbye Sky
Promo CD (FSOL101)
1. The Lovers
2. The Mello Hippo Disco Show
3. Goodbye Sky (Reprise)
4. Elysian Feels
5. Go Tell it to the Trees Egghead
6. Divinity
7. Guru Song
8. Osho
9. Her Tongue is Like a Jellyfish
11. Meadows
11. High Tide on the Sea of Flesh
12. The Galaxial Pharmaceutical
Promo CDr
1. The Mello Hippo Disco Show
2. Elysian Feels
3. Divinity
4. Go Tell it to the Trees Egghead
Credits
Written by Amorphous Androgynous.
Produced by The Future Sound of London.
Engineered by Yage and Stone Freshwaters at The Galaxial Pharmaceutical 1997-2002.
Front cover ‘Katie’ pinhole photography – Jim Cherry.
Overall art concept / design – Amorphic Arts.
All montage / layering / digital manipulation – Gaz Cobain.
All derivations of ‘Katie’ from the original pinhole photograph by Jim Cherry.
Additional layout – Paul Agar.
‘Crawling hare’ and ‘minotaur’ sculptures by Sophie Ryder, photography Jim Cherry.
CD booklet centrefold pinhole photography – B Dougans.
Gaz portraits – Christine Lala.
Studio photography – B Dougans.
Brian photography: Paula Flack.
‘Swing’ shot: B Dougans.
‘3 Man Band’ shot: Jim Cherry.
‘Sannyas’ Brian photography – Paula Flack, G photos – B Dougans.
‘Sophie’s dreamhouse’ photography B Dougans.
‘The Galaxial Pharmaceutical’ photography Jim Cherry.
Fractional Difference 