Mystical Poems of Rumi by The Kiriks – A Psychedelic Drone Odyssey That’ll Mess With Your Head
Alright, let’s cut to the chase. Mystical Poems of Rumi by The Kiriks isn’t your typical electronic album—it’s a heady, experimental trip that slaps you in the face and then whispers cryptic poetry in your ear. Released in 2015 under Denmark’s Metaphysical Circuits label, this thing is equal parts drone, minimalism, and just straight-up weirdness. It’s not for everyone, but if you’re into sounds that feel like they crawled out of some metaphysical abyss, you’re gonna dig it.
First off, let’s talk about “The Psychedelic Plants.” This track? Holy hell. It starts off slow, almost teasing you with these low-frequency drones that build up so gradually you don’t even realize you’re being hypnotized until BAM—it hits you like a truck full of acid-laced mushrooms. There’s no melody here, no catchy hook—just layers upon layers of noise that somehow coalesce into something… beautiful? Terrifying? Both? You decide. What sticks with me is how it feels alive, like the sound itself is breathing and shifting around you. I swear, after listening to this one, I spent an hour staring at my ceiling wondering if plants really do have souls.
Then there’s “Sea of Galilee,” which takes a totally different approach. It’s sparse, cold, and kinda haunting. Imagine standing on the edge of a dark lake at 3 AM, questioning every life choice you’ve ever made—that’s this track. The Kiriks go full-on minimal here, stripping everything down to bare bones. But don’t mistake simplicity for weakness; this song creeps up on you. By the time those faint echoes kick in, you’re already knee-deep in existential dread. It’s unsettling as hell, but in the best way possible. If music could give you goosebumps while also making you question reality, this would be it.
Now, I gotta say, this album ain’t perfect. Some tracks drag a bit too long, and yeah, it can get repetitive if you’re not in the right mood. But damn, when it works, it REALLY works. Tracks like “Crime And Punishment” and “666” throw curveballs that keep things interesting, though nothing quite hits as hard as the first two I mentioned.
So what’s the takeaway? Honestly, I think The Kiriks nailed something raw and primal here. They didn’t set out to make pop hits or please critics—they made something that feels like it came from another dimension. Listening to this album is like taking a journey through someone else’s fever dream. And honestly? I kinda love it.
Final thought: If aliens ever invade Earth and ask us to explain human emotion through music, we should probably just hand them a copy of Mystical Poems of Rumi. Or maybe not—we might accidentally summon Cthulhu instead. Either way, worth the risk.
