In an ideal world, Altin Gün’s 2018 arrival would’ve kickstarted a newfound western interest in Anatolian rock. I’d love to make the assumption that the Amsterdam-based group’s immediate acclaim reignited King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard’s love of the genre (after all, they are that good, and KGLW’s Turkish delights are just as good), but I’d probably be wrong about that – plus, King Gizzard aren’t a western band, so I’d be wrong there too, and now I’m shaming myself online, getting the paddle ready as we speak.

Altin Gün – not to be confused with Elton John, which is spelt and pronounced differently, but slightly similar – have a lot of love to spread, and on their sixth, they both are and aren’t spreading as much love as ever. They ARE because Garip is actually a covers album; all songs belong to Neşet Ertaş; a Turkish folk legend – folk as in music, not folklore; he’s not like a Turkish Robin Hood – who passed away in 2012 but left his mark on those infatuated with Turkish music. They AREN’T because the tribute feels like a bit of a compromise; Garip is an attempt to revamp the stylings of Ertaş into the psychedelic party pageantry that these whippersnappers utilised on 2023’s Aşk and continue to utilise in their live shows, but the attributes that bundled together to make previous albums so engaging are broken up, likely due to an indecision in just how modern, or just how faithful, Altin Gün want their tribute to be. You’ll get a song that gets as much psychedelia out of an electric baglama as possible (Zülüf Dökülmüş Yüze), you’ll get a song that keeps the infectious party grooves but not much else (Niğde Bağları), and you’ll get a song that melodises faithfully whilst leaving the party at the door (Suçum Nedir), as sleepy as a sandman sandwich).

There are some complete packages. Gel Yanima Gel is a joy; an outright rave that fuses newfound funky guitars with badman drum patterns and stray, yet formidable, string interpolations. Neredesin Sen places much focus on making the guitar parts stand out, from frantic soloing to recognisable, five-note phrases cloaked in a mysterious tone complemented by flickering, Middle Eastern vocal melodies. It also doesn’t have to be a problem when the focus is totally on psychedelia, amped up on Gönül Dağı, making a pretty nice impact on the album’s second track; far hazier, restricting its direction as an actual song, but its trippy atmosphere is unmatched. It highlights just how cavernous much of the album is, and unexpectedly so. These atmospheres and naturally echoey vocals make  fine dance partners for Turkishness, but I do wish that the Turkish music honoured by Altin Gün on Garip was presented with all of the band’s parts intact.

Best tracks – Neredesin Sen – Gel Yanima Gel.

Rating – 6.5 out of 10