I know enough about Smegma to know that they have the kind of approach and instrumentation that can sometimes get on my nerves. At its worst, I’ve seen several bands doing “this kind of thing” - collective improvisation with conventional and unconventional instruments (junk percussion, record players, home-made electronics, for example), a leaning towards something “freak” or dada-ish - and I’ve stood there bored, wondering what the point of it all is. What exactly Smegma possess that makes them different, I don’t know; but on “Mirage” they concoct five engaging tracks (plus a live recording from the archives) that differ quite wildly, yet are clearly all born of the same method and thinking.

Its very much a collective approach to improvisation, and its rare that any one element dominates. Though, saying this, there’s a fantastic moment in the first track “World Of My Own”; when, having built up in two stages, the track is suddenly grabbed by the scruff of the neck by a slippery slide-guitar part - entirely transforming it and propelling it heavenward. The second track, “Mirage”, is a series of eerie, inventive soundscapes; each book-ended by chords from a banjo or resonator guitar. Whilst Smegma have an “open” sound in general, “Mirage” pares it back to even more expansive territory.

“F-85 Turbo Rocket” is a jolting little surf-punk song - albeit one performed akin to the spirit of Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 or Caroliner. In many respects, it should stick out like a sore thumb on the album; but it all makes perfect sense: testament to the inclusiveness and flexibility of Smegma. With this in mind, listening to the next two tracks -  “Oh Yeh” and “That Part Of Wales” - I’m drawn to making comparisons with electro-acoustic composition and tape music. There are so many elements and sounds jumping in and out of the tracks, without necessarily developing over the duration, that the listener is left to experience the sounds second by second. Whereas a standard jazz piece might travel from A to B, with the listener following how the instruments develop on that journey - individually and in relation to one another; these two tracks deal very much in moments. I’m even of a mind to compare them, in a sense, to AMM…

The last track, “Quiet On The Set Rioux! (March 16, 1974)”, is a live recording dug up from Smegma’s early years; and, like a lot of great bands with lengthy careers, shows Smegma to be different now, but the same. Its dominated by queasy horns and reeds, with the ghost of a badly tuned piano in the background. Whilst its arguably less refined or developed than its 2010 counterparts, there’s still the commitment to a truly collective form of improvisation; as well as the broad, open, panoramic sound. The fact that this track was recorded before I was born, shows just how much of a discography I now have to seek out and catch up on…