So it came out originally in 1995 and this is a reissue, eh? Lessee, what was I doing in 1995? Oh yes, I was in Morocco for that photo shoot...

We were searching for the Fortelian Anaconda. The great desert snake. I smoked some kif and had visions of the snake plunging in and out, in and out of the sand. I awoke, sweating. The gritty, sexiness of that snake was so... so plunging. Maraccas chattered outside. The girl wiped the stinking sweat from my brow, and I heard the drums begin in the distance, along with the wispy, chanting voice of Margaret Fielder. Ooh. My manhood pressed hard into my khaki pants, and I saw the snake again, plunging, plunging.

Soon I was awake and the music had changed, it was dissonant guitars challenging clattering bells and strange electronic loops. Margaret was speaking to me now... challenging. I peered through the mosquito netting and saw in the courtyard-- no, it couldn't be! It was Laika, jamming out their latest release, Silver Apples On The Moon! It had been the catalyst to my hallucinations! I considered replacing my eyeballs with turnips briefly, then lay down and listened.

The music brought the snake to me again. Though every track displayed a remarkably organic mixture of electronic and natural style, the snake wrought dissonance in every track, sending percussive textures into disarray, inspiring the scream of misshapen horns, beckoning the desert carrion- eaters into my sky.

Could I have imagined then that Laika would follow this primally beautiful, grittily sexy, cooly dissonant record with the gloss and shine of their most recent release Sounds Of The Satellites? Never. Yet, listening to the album today, far away from the mosquitoes and the evasive Fortelian Anaconda, Silver Apples still feels like listening to the future-- still fresh, original and worthy of emulation.

-James P. Wisdom