one thing a listener should know going into a first listen of this is that almost none of it is what we would call "psy" or even "trance." it's tech-house in some spots (the first track, which i note with surprise is produced by tsuyoshi suzuki AKA prana) and it's kind of electroey in others (the hujaboy track sounds like kitsune records hacked up a hairball.)laughing buddha saves the day with one of the only interesting moments on the entire album, a twisted psy anthem that is truly worth having.my response is really more WTF? than anything else. too much blotter makes one felix da housecat, for just one random cd, i suppose.i wanted my dose of goa or at least goa revival. what is this? i think it's an issue of expectations. one expects mental psytrance and goa trance from TIP. in any case, i didn't like it. i made me feel as though i should be at some fake-o club or something, buying vodka drinks for sorority chicks.i have other tip compilations on vinyl. this is nothing at all like that, not even the same genre.but DO get the laughing buddha track :) and the lsd tribute by 1200 mics is nice in its way.

I'll shoot off two rounds right to your temple and come out with it: this is a safe contender for the worst various artists compilation of all times. Though the competition is large, and more important, diligent, when Numanoid (an alter ego of once highly venerated legend Tsuyoshi Suzuki) drops an Electrixx like bomb with vocoded vocals going "everybody's gonna move their body" ran over by Sugar Ray guitar riffs, hell even Madonna's face starts to show some wrinkles. But things are far from over, because a solid gold medal has to be earned through blood, sweat and tears, which is precisely what my urine contains by the time The Meloskys kill it with a Dragon Ball lead melody and scratches, or so I make 'em out to be. Hell, the mere fact Eat Static agreed to appear on this gem makes me want to toss my chicken wings up in Saint Peter's face and ditch music for all eternity. Turn to Big Brother reality shows and watch Nascar. Eat Static actually do sound like they have been abducted by aliens, fed virgin blood and got Mach3 razor blades squeezed inside their rectums just before getting teleported back to their studio. Legobox actually sounds cool, if you happen to mistake his track for a seven minute extract of a recent Richie Hawtin live performance. Since that isn't the case here, and I am not even a blind and narrow psy trance listener, with enough self confidence and knowledge to appreciate good techno, out of sheer self worship I will reduce my chances by adding one more bullet before venturing into the second round of russian roulette. Maybe that way I can trick this "white" album and end my miseries before these artists had originaly planned to. Hujabox has a vocal which gives an advice I urge everybody to listen to: cut the power. In the words of one Rakim: "cool, 'cause I won't get upset. I kick a hole in the speaker, pull the plug then I jet". Nicely put, and I if I ever live to hear this in a club, I am wielding my boxcutter and terminating the power supply. A very humane act that would be. Duotekk and Tranan, whoever the hell they are, make you realize how modern GMS and Alien Project actually aren't that bad. Ear bleeding is a form of purification. And hopefully some magic will turn the blood into gold. My patience and martyrdom must be rewarded, be it by issueing an executive order to napalm bomb the pressing plant where this compilation was brought to life and cloned, or better yet to subdue the respective artists into listening their own contributions on repeat forever and after in the realms of Dante's upper hell, where the worst self-indulgent sins would be punished. Logic Bomb drops all logic and common sense, and forgets to bring the bomb, something they were very known for in the past. Don't see how their chef d'oeuvre has anything to do with Africa, but it has already been stated how all connotations with logic have been dispatched somewhere along the way. Wait until the climax at 05:40. You made it? Congratulations, you are dead. But wait, the best is saved for last. The icing on the cake. The aftertaste of radiation. Albert Hoffman Tribute. Word, there is no better trip than this track. You will actually see little gremlins shoving moist phalluses inside your ear cavities. When have you ever experienced that? Check the flattering vocal ornament: "this track is a tributte to doctor Albert Hoffman - (chopped vocals continue) - is a tribute - is a tribute - is a tribute - docotr Albert Hoffman - Albert Hoffman - Hoffman - Hoffman - man - man! We are forever changed and forever greatful". Wow, speak of having brass balls. Albert, or his remains, must be feeling like Jesus in the flesh sat him by his side on the throne. Wait for that cherubic crescendo at 03:20, as a legion of pissed off seraphims descends from the heavens spitting out cyanide all over 1200 Micrograms equipment. The supporting vocalist had it worse, though. He was forced to swallow sour lsd and got chased around the Eiffel Tower by a naked Raja Ram, eager to spank him. Basically, this is apocalypse, without the now. Actually, if it is now for me, be smarter and don't make it now for yourself as well. Avoid at all costs. Actually, avoid without costs. Stay away from larger festival sites during summer season, avoid old guys playing flutes, steer clear of anything with the prefix or suffix psy. This one is a biohazard weapon, with the capacity to decide wars and dissolve world conflicts, which is a feat not to be underestimated. Basically, you could force the statue of liberty to get down on its knees and set the Manhattan Bridge on fire. Hell, if you played this at correctional facilities, you would turn cold killers into tender florists. Enough, seriously now, e n o u g h !

toooo late... way too late... 5 wasted bucks. If it is possible get the lost budhaa track on youtube and avoid he rest at all cost

*WORD*