It's all too easy for me to be horribly biased towards this record. See, I love the Lilys like I love warm summer days, butter pecan ice cream, and birthday blowjobs. For me, they can do no wrong. If Kurt Heasley and whoever's backing his ass up these days came over to my house and recorded the sound of them beating me to a pulp, I'd still buy it. Hell, everyone would buy it because nothing says "entertainment" like hearing me scream, "Have I mentioned how much I love Eccsame the Photon Band? Oh god, no! Not the pliers! nnnnnggggeeeEYEEEYYYAGGGHH! [sound of shattering cartilage]

But enough about my sadomasochistic fantasies. What we have here is a sampler of sorts, thrown together mostly to get the new Tiger Style label off to a running start: four previously unreleased Lilys tracks left over from the Eccsame sessions, four new songs from psychedelians Aspera Ad Astra, and some bizarrely ugly cover art depicting apes wrestling with giant earthworms. (Don't ask, I don't get it either.)

Now, only hardcore Lilys fans could possibly get excited over a handful of seven-year-old demos, and sure, these four songs aren't anything special compared to their more polished work. The dreamlike, acid-drenched pulse of "Elsa" and "Hymn" merely recall better tracks from Eccsame, and the crunchy pop stomp of "Coby" is the missing link between the hazy garage-gazer of In the Presence of Nothing and the thick, vibrant power-pop of A Brief History of Amazing Letdowns. But those unfamiliar with the Lilys will at least get a pretty good idea of the band's pre-1995 vibe, before they transformed from shoegazery indie-poppers into British Invasion doppelgangers.

Aspera Ad Astra's half of the disc is fairly decent, but naturally a bit of a letdown after the Lilys have worked their magic. The heavily sedated, Spiritualized-like shimmer of their full- length debut, Peace, is distilled into smaller psych-pop nuggets here, which is kind of disappointing; "Good Beat Down" and "Tin Pan Miracles" sport melodies so twee and precious you'd think Drew Mills' whiny quaver was coming from a jolly yet neurotic dwarf. Only when the big globs of effects-laden distortion come raining down are the songs salvaged, as on "Feed the Fantasy." And even then, Aspera Ad Astra's sing-songiness is a bit much to handle. In culinary terms, this album is like only getting to smell a glass of wine, and then chugging a glass of maple syrup. Mmm... Maple syrup.

-Nick Mirov