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· Trevor Miller
Photo Credit: Copper Feast Records
You Drop the Needle; the Room Glows
When you first cue Being Here, the title track blooms in hazy Rhodes chords before the fuzz surges; the contrast feels intentional, like sunrise through heavy curtains. We feel that tension throughout the record, and it invites you to listen closely rather than drift.
Old fans know Turtle Skull for riff heft, but multi-instrumentalist Ally Gradon’s synth and mellotron lines soften the edges, letting vocal harmonies glide over motorik grooves. Reviewers draw friendly comparisons to Spiritualized and The Flaming Lips, yet the guitars still land with Sabbath gravity; the blend feels less like compromise and more like growth.
“Into The Sun” sits mid-album, its hook riding a major-key progression that belies lyrics about existential fatigue; the sunshine makes the darkness easier to confront. “It Starts With Me,” a two-minute whirl of AI-anxiety and tambourine shimmer, proves the band can be concise without losing weight. Side-closer “Moon & Tide” stretches nearly nine minutes, layering tidal delay over a Moog-thick drone until everything dissolves into tape hiss.
The Pyroclastic Biscuit Australian pressing, orange-pink marble, hand-numbered - sold out in forty-eight hours; Discogs asks hover between €95 and €149. Copper Feast’s Infinity Pool sea-foam galaxy edition follows the same 250-copy limit and sits around £40–60 on the resale market. A standard black run remains available at £22 through Bandcamp for listeners who value music over color-swirl bragging rights. Each first-press LP includes a risograph tour-poster insert, small touches that underscore the record’s tactile ethos.
Turtle Skull will take Being Here on a haze-drenched East-Coast run this winter, rehearsing the album front-to-back after a warm-up set at Camp A Low Hum in New Zealand. Expect three-part harmonies bathed in violet strobes and the gratifying rumble of Ampeg 8x10 cabs; the band’s socials already tease full-sequence run-throughs that sound album-tight yet alive.
We collect records because moments deserve space; Being Here rewards that commitment. The album tempers riff worship with melody, inviting listeners from psych-pop camps as readily as doom dwellers; it signals an Australian scene willing to trade sheer volume for songcraft without losing heft. If you’re crate-digging for tomorrow’s cult staple, drop the needle on side A and feel the amps hum, then decide whether you can live without that marble swirl before the next buyer strikes.