A real monster and a real double-album. Yeti feels like the work of a band with so many ideas and so much enthusiasm for those ideas that they couldn’t stop themselves from playing all over each other and the tape itself. It’s one of the few things I’vve ever heard that actually feels psychedelic in that it is hard to imagine the people who made it were entirely of sound mind and body (and that is not an insult). “Burning Sister” sounds like The Kinks, maybe chasing a truck of their own gear, already on fire, and “Archangels Thunderbird” is like a different version of Black Sabbath, with a woman much scarier than Ozzy singing. The three long improvisations that close the album suggest an anarchist version of the Art Ensemble of Chicago, and who’s to say that’s not exactly what Amon Düül II was?