Age Of Aquarius – ‘Moon Dog and Other Stories’

(Rock Company)

There’s something gloriously unhinged about a band that doesn’t just flirt with the strange, but cannonballs straight into it. Moon Dog and Other Stories, the latest offering from Age Of Aquarius, is a record that doesn’t care whether you believe a word of it. It just wants you to lean back, turn it up, and let the cosmic dust settle wherever it may. And honestly, that confidence is half the magic.

Right from the off, this album establishes itself as a full-bodied psychedelic rock experience that feels both steeped in the past and defiantly modern. Age Of Aquarius’s main man Peter Cox has clearly spent a long-time rummaging through the dusty vinyl crates of late ‘60’s and early 70’s psych, space rock, and progressive oddities. But rather than stitching together a nostalgia quilt, he’s built something that breathes. The result is an album that feels less like a tribute and more like a transmission from some parallel universe where rock music never stopped chasing the stars.

The sound palette here is rich and deliberately excessive. Guitars don’t simply riff; they shimmer, swirl, and occasionally detonate. There’s a warmth to the production that evokes analogue tape and glowing valves, yet there’s also a clarity that stops the whole thing from becoming a muddy retro exercise. Layers stack up, then peel away again, revealing unexpected textures, synths that hum like distant satellites, bass lines that throb with hypnotic patience, and drums that alternate between thunderous propulsion and spacious, floating restraint.

One of the most striking things about Moon Dog and Other Stories is its pacing. The band understands the power of tension and release. They allow grooves to stretch out, sometimes to the point where you wonder if they’ll ever resolve, only to crash back in with a chorus or a heavy section that feels earned rather than obligatory. This patience gives the record a cinematic quality. It doesn’t feel like a collection of songs so much as a journey through strange landscapes, each new moment opening another door into the unknown.

Vocally, the album hits a sweet spot between storytelling and atmosphere. Takoda Ray’s delivery is confident without being theatrical, grounded enough to keep the material accessible but with just enough mystique to sell the themes. There’s a subtle charisma here, an understanding that you don’t need to oversell the weird when the music is already doing the heavy lifting. The melodies linger, often deceptively simple, but they lodge themselves in your brain after a couple of listens. It’s the kind of album that sneaks up on you. You don’t realise how many hooks there are until you find yourself humming them days later.

Lyrically and conceptually, the record dives headfirst into mystery, conspiracy, and the eternal human fascination with what might be out there. But rather than feeling gimmicky or tongue-in-cheek, it leans into a sense of wonder. There’s a wide-eyed curiosity running through the whole thing, a refusal to dismiss the unexplained. Even when the themes brush against paranoia or secrecy, the prevailing tone is exploration rather than fear. It’s about possibility. About the idea that the universe is bigger and stranger than we’ve been told.

There’s also a refreshing lack of irony here. In an era where so much retro-leaning rock hides behind winks and nods, Age Of Aquarius commit fully. They believe in the drama. They believe in the spectacle. And that sincerity is infectious. It invites the listener to suspend disbelief and join the ride, whether that ride involves cosmic journeys, secret histories, or late-night conversations under strange skies.

By the time the album reaches its closing stretch, there’s a sense that you’ve travelled a long way. The mood becomes more reflective, almost elegiac, as if the band is stepping back to consider the cost of chasing the unknown. It’s a strong emotional turn that prevents the record from feeling one-dimensional. Beneath all the swirling guitars and interstellar imagery, there’s a very human core: curiosity, longing, and the search for meaning in the vastness.

The opener, ‘Aerial Phenomenon’, sets the tone beautifully. It begins with a sense of mystery and atmosphere before it kick’s the doors open with a huge, swirling groove. There’s a confidence here that immediately pulls you in, like the curtain rising on something strange and spectacular.

‘Ancient Astronauts’ leans harder into the psychedelic rock foundations. The riff is weighty and hypnotic, while the band stretch the arrangement just enough to let the tension simmer. It’s expansive without drifting, and the hook lands with real authority.

With ‘What Happened In Roswell’, the album hits its first truly punchy moment. There’s a sharper edge to the guitars and a driving rhythm that gives the track urgency. It feels more direct, more urgent, and it injects the record with a welcome shot of energy.

‘Extra Terrestrial Hypothesis’ brings things back into deeper, spacier territory. The band show real patience here, building layers gradually. It’s immersive, almost cinematic, and highlights their ability to create mood without losing momentum.

The instrumental ‘Moon Dog’ is a standout. It gives multi-instrumentalist Cox space to flex musically, and the interplay between guitars and rhythm section is fantastic. It’s melodic, exploratory, and never self-indulgent, acting as a sonic centrepiece for the album.

‘Cover Up’ reintroduces the vocals with a darker, heavier feel. There’s a sense of tension running through it, and the groove is thick and compelling. This is the album at its most brooding, and it works brilliantly.

‘Talking To A Telepath’ shifts gears again, adding a slightly more melodic and accessible edge. The chorus is strong and memorable, and the band balance atmosphere with immediacy.

‘The Time Traveller’ has a classic, almost progressive rock flavour. The structure is dynamic, moving through several moods while still feeling cohesive. It’s ambitious but controlled.

On ‘Sceptical Inquiry (Beam Me Up)’, they inject some swagger. There’s a playful quality beneath the mysticism, and it adds welcome contrast late in the record.

Finally, ‘Ghost Rocket’ closes the album with scale and emotion. It feels reflective, expansive, and like a fitting send-off after such a cosmic journey. A strong ending to a bold and imaginative record.

Ultimately, Moon Dog and Other Stories succeeds because it understands that great psychedelic rock isn’t about effects or aesthetics. It’s about immersion. It’s about creating a space where listeners can lose themselves for an hour and emerge slightly changed. Age Of Aquarius have crafted an album that feels expansive without being self-indulgent, nostalgic without being derivative, and strange without being alienating.

If you’re looking for something safe, predictable, and neatly packaged, this probably isn’t it. But if you want a record that embraces mystery, celebrates imagination, and reminds you that rock music can still sound like an adventure, then this is absolutely worth your time. Age Of Aquarius have delivered a bold, confident, and deeply enjoyable trip. And in a world that often feels too small and too certain, that kind of cosmic escapism is exactly what we need.

8/10

Essential Track – ‘Aerial Phenomenon’

Review by Woody