Like the eccentric uncle on the periphery at a family party, Hans-Peter Lindstrøm is one of those omni-present figures happy to exist in the cosy corners only rarely venturing out to shake centre stage. Six Cups of Rebel is Lindstrøm's third solo album and the first where he uses his own voice, which is actually no big deal when his vocal yelps and growls are generally pulled apart and treated to all manner of rubberized effects. Pushing the idea of 'disco' to its illogical conclusion, whole worlds of sounds are created and destroyed over the course seven tracks. The ghost of an acid bassline giving way to aggressively panning drums and wooden block percussion that tumble down red, white and neon helter skelters. Mutant strains of Afro-rock provide the propulsive grease for all manner of bubbling synth monsters, roaming, scanning and firing funk in all directions. Certainly it's Lindstrøm's wildest work to date ( give or take) and to be honest, it's quite a bit better than I expected it to be, apathetic as as I have been by his last couple of outings with Prins Thomas. Rougher, sleazier and for the most aimed squarley at the dance-floor Six Cups of Rebel is an epic undertaking. From the ecclesiastical straining organs that opens proceedings to the jittery bombast that closes them, this is serious album that nonetheless demands that you don't take it too seriously.