I could be mistaken about this, but there's a point in this really fine Six Organs Of Admittance show when Ben Chasny and his new foil, Elisa Ambrogio, appear to be whispering sweet nothings to each other. Then the hushed, gentle duet becomes clearer. "They may even eat the horse that you're riding," they're singing. As far as I know, I think this is a new song from the next Six Organs album due in November. On this evidence, it's going to be quite a departure. Chasny is too much of an adventurer and shit-stirrer to stick with the acid-folk formula which he'd perfected before most people had woken up to it. Tonight's support act, Hush Arbors, actually do a pretty good job of sounding like Chasny circa "Dust And Chimes" or "Dark Noontide", though they're also capable of some billowing white noise + effete melody hybrids like the one they close with. Six Organs, though, are moving on. Chasny's incantatory singing has got stronger and while he's still playing elaborate, opulent tunes, like an electrified Bert Jansch at times, it's the way he intersects with Ambrogio that's so radical and thrilling. Ambrogio's performance fronting The Magik Markers on their new "Boss" album (reviewed here) has been exciting us here in the office for the past few weeks. As half of the reconfigured Six Organs, she quietly harmonises with Chasny, then, while he carves labyrinthine folkish figures on his guitar, she lets fly these quite astonishing no-wave solos: great sustained clangs and skronks, punctuated by cavernous silences, that are at once free and fiercely controlled. It makes for quite a spectacle, not least because Ambrogio rocks out in such an intense and passionate way. Headbanging in slow motion, shredding her strings one by one, she acts as a magnetic force, drawing Chasny towards her into a series of erotic guitar duels, until they're facing off against each other, rocking backwards and forwards in perfect sync, finding a cacophonous and beautiful common ground in their playing. The whole thing is very charged and I'm struggling to think of anything I can adequately compare it with. I suppose Sonic Youth have hit this sort of vibe occasionally, but it's the intimacy of the pair which is so striking, the sense that you're watching something very private but also something which has a keen understanding of primal rock theatre. For an encore, they make a brackish avant-blues jam out of, of all things, Fleetwood Mac's "That's Alright", wryly positing themselves as the New Weird America's Buckingham and Nicks. Cute, and awesome.

As I've mentioned before here, the marketing department next door aren't too fond of the primordial swamp jams that come out of the New Weird America, and for the past couple of weeks they've been particularly aggravated by the new album by Sunburned Hand Of The Man. To my ears, though, "Fire Escape" is by far the most accessible album I've come across by this productive and frequently unhinged collective from Massachusetts. Compared with the last Sunburned album which came my way, "Z" on Ecstatic Peace, this is a pop record. I exaggerate, of course. But still, most of Sunburned's copious catalogue consists of sprawling freak-outs recorded in their attic and released by themselves on CDR. "Fire Escape", on the other hand, is a slick and formal product. It's coming out on Oslo's excellent Smalltown Supersound label, with a sleeve designed by EYE from the sainted Boredoms. Most importantly, it's been produced - in a proper studio, no less - by Kieran Hebden, the London producer and musician who's best known for his largely electronic work as Four Tet. Hebden has great and eclectic taste, and he's set about recording and mixing Sunburned pretty fearlessly. For a start, he's hacked down a fair bit of the undergrowth that traditionally surrounds the band, without - amazingly - compromising their quicksilver free spirits. On "Fire Escape" you can hear every last rustle and clank, from the spirited percussive ambles through to a spray of trumpet supplied I think, by Vibracathedral Orchestra's Michael Flower, whose duets album with Chris Corsano (another sometime Sunburned member) I raved about here. The trumpet is pitched somewhere between "On The Corner"-era Miles and the voluntaries of a dying elephant. This, I suspect, is what marketing have most issues with. I think it's great, of course. Most importantly, Hebden understands that Sunburned's secret weapon is bassist Rob Thomas, whose heavy, funky lines bring all the wayward jams into sharp focus. It's here that Sunburned's potency as a groove band becomes really apparent (as anyone who's seen them live will testify). Beyond the drum circles, improv psych and shamanic moaning, they're at their best when they recall Funkadelic or Can. Their best record, anyway, since "Jaybird", and maybe their best ever. Neophytes should definitely start here. A few quick things. A serendipitous bit of iPod shuffling yesterday fetched up something from the new PJ Harvey album next to "Mrs Bartolozzi" by Kate Bush. I think I mentioned Bush in my original review of "White Chalk" here, but the correlation between some of these songs and the piano tracks on disc one of "Aerial" is quite striking, I think. Secondly, here's a fascinating review I was sent of Robert Forster's long-awaited return. I'm sure all old Go-Betweens fans will be delighted by this news. And finally, kudos to Andrew Weatherall for his "Sci-Fi-Lo-Fi" mix CD which, amongst many tracks by sinister men with quiffs down the ages (oh, the new Gallon Drunk album is good, too), features "I Bloodbrother Be" by The Shockheaded Peters, sounding as lusty and fresh as it did on the Peel programme what, 25 years ago now?