eaders! Ask yourself this: when was the last time a record gave you a headache? A thumping, face-gripping pain so searing you had to run to the kitchen cabinet, held back only momentarily by the snapping cord of the still-buzzing headphones, to suck back a handful of painkillers and see your reflection, face dripping water, staring back at you from the window, bug-eyes begging ‘what the fuck was that? …And where can I get some more?’

Before this evening, that record was (for me) The Residents’ Third Reich ‘N Roll, which – about seven years ago – left me shocked, confused, frightened, and longing to somehow soak up all its brilliantly disparate edges and twists all at once, head aching from millions of tiny red and silver vessels trying to process the magnitude of the music. That record is now The Cooper Temple Clause’s Kick Up The Fire, And Let The Flames Break Loose.

The Reading sextet fairly exploded onto the scene, discussed as much if not more for their ‘far out’ haircuts as they were their sprawling, brawling debut See This Through And Leave (remember that the last groups to cop so much follicular publicity were two little outfits called The Beatles and The Rolling Stones). Though it had its moments of greatness in “Let’s Kill Music” and “Amber” – and they sure were great – the album only hinted frustratingly, in between low-level ‘experimentalism’ and imitation, at the power the Coopers could pack, as though they were too wary to open Pandora’s Box in case they couldn’t keep its contents under control. Their sophomore effort sees them embrace that very lack of control, and thrillingly at ease with their own sound – an eclecticism that goes so far out into the stratosphere that it comes beaming back again as coherency.

Opener “The Same Mistakes” follows on from See This Through’s frequent lamentations on the state of relationships, as Ben Gautrey wails “now’s no time for tears / ‘Cause though that boy has died this one still lives” over purring strings and Didz Hammond’s rolling bass. Where their first album was packed with post-teen angst and youthful vitriol, here we find the Coopers wearier, more resigned to the fate of affairs – and it’s much more affecting for their newfound maturity. “New Toys” pings like the love theme from Bladerunner, taking trite Bossanova pre-sets and Days Of Our Lives strings and melting them into a vastly moving portrait of young male confusion; when Ben howls “go ahead, cut deep” then adds forlornly, “but don’t tell the boys”, it’s everything that white-male-pain supergroups like Nickelback, in their blunt solipsism, will never be. “Into My Arms”, with its longing refrain “one night is never enough with you / Please come back into my arms”, comes over like a 23rd century fireside sing-along. Otherworldly harmonica drifts in and out of four-part harmonies over Before And After Science pings and chords before a disembodied howl sends the song into an industrial stomp. It’s chilling, beautiful and ominous; the Coopers might have ripped the title of the album from a Philip Larkin poem, but if there’s one conspicuous literary touchstone on Kick Up The Fire, it’s Philip K. Dick.

Out of an embarrassment of riches, the synapse-frying highlight of Kick Up The Fire is “Promises, Promises”. Shuddering into life with a relentless, scabrous riff that rumbles your solar plexus like a jet engine in low gear, Ben warns “it’s got me going inside / I think it’s happening again / I think there’s gonna be some action”, and it detonates into a frenzied alleyway shakedown as “Kashmir” guitars shred through sheet-metal drums and screaming Theremin – and that’s before the end of the first chorus. There’s brief respite during the ominously subdued middle eight, before what sounds like a voice singing “ahh” (actually a guitar) heralds the return of the machines, and the final breakdown explodes, as viscerally thrilling as having the best sex of your life on a conveyor belt that will ultimately deliver you into the rotor blades of doom – but what a way to go.

Forget the rock revolution, this is a music revolution. In short, in its ambition, emotion, aggression and intelligence, Kick Up The Fire, And Let The Flames Break Loose is a work of sheer bloody genius. Let it burn.