Kula Shaker - A pop-rock mantra

By the mid-Nineties, the so-called britpop movement was riding high. Born from the ashes of late-Eighties English scenes (first and foremost the baggy scene), it had truly exploded when Suede, in 1993, lit the spark of the last great "British Invasion" destined to conquer the world. 1994 had seen Blur and Oasis duelling via singles and magazine covers, Pulp gearing up for their definitive breakthrough, the Stone Roses self-destructing. But behind the established names, the very ones fighting over covers and headline slots at the big summer festivals, a new generation of bands was emerging, ready to take up the torch. Groups like Radiohead, Placebo and Kula Shaker, born in the ferment of the Britpop years but destined to follow necessarily different paths: the band fronted by blond-haired Crispian Mills, in particular, would be the quickest of the lot to break away from the dominant sound and climb the national charts at breakneck speed.

From the beginnings to the K bomb

To be fair, Kula Shaker weren't exactly newcomers by the time the britpop money machine was in full swing. Crispian Mills – London-born guitarist and singer, son of the celebrated actress Hayley Mills and director Roy Boulting, and grandson of Sir John Mills, a heavyweight of the English theatre scene – met bassist Alonza Bevan at college in Richmond upon Thames, in the southwest of the capital. This was around 1988-89: the two put together a band called Objects of Desire, rounded out by Markus French on drums and Leigh Morris on rhythm guitar, plus Marcus Maclaine on vocals. The project lasted about five years, during which the quintet managed to play numerous live shows in venues around the London suburbs.

In 1993, once that musical project folded, Crispian Mills set off on a long trip to India: he was profoundly struck by the country's culture and by Hindu spirituality, influences that would prove decisive throughout the rest of his artistic career. That career picked back up as soon as he returned to England, when he formed The Kays, enlisting his trusty companion Bevan, drummer Paul Winter-Hart (who had replaced French back in 1991), and his cousin Saul Dismont on vocals. The latter wouldn't stay in the band for long: after about a year, organist Jay Darlington came on board and Mills took over the microphone himself.

The Kays lasted a couple of years, time enough to settle the line-up and give it a clear direction: a psychedelic rock (somewhere between the Byrds and early Pink Floyd) with "classic" overtones (think Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin and Cream), channelling British pop toward those Eastern-tinged sounds that had already captivated the Beatles – George Harrison above all – years earlier. And it's precisely on the strength of that path that, in 1995, Mills decided to rename the project Kula Shaker, a name paying tribute to the Indian saint King Kulashekhara.

That was more than enough to whet the appetite of Columbia Records, who watched Kula Shaker win a major competition for emerging bands (Placebo were also among the entrants) and promptly decided to sign Mills and co.

The choice soon paid off. While waiting to release their debut album, a couple of singles from the forthcoming record were put out. The first, in spring 1996, was "Grateful When You're Dead/Jerry Was There". The tribute – hardly a veiled one – to Jerry Garcia, who had died the previous year, is a track with two distinct faces: exuberant in its first half, built on classically-inspired funk-rock, before diving, roughly from the midpoint onward, into a sixties psychedelia that pushes the whole thing into dreamlike territory. September 1996 also saw the release of the second single, "Tattva" (the title is in Sanskrit), which would become one of the London band's signature songs and already contains all the essential ingredients of the Kula Shaker sound: a guitar groove running alongside a spiritual dimension and a lively psychedelic aftertaste (the mellotron also makes an appearance), culminating in a chorus that's as melodic as it is irresistible. Following the album's release, the single would peak at number 2 on the British chart.

The references to India and its culture are even more explicit on "Govinda", released as a single first in the summer and then again in November of that same year, destined to become the only song sung entirely in Sanskrit ever to enter the British top 10 of all time (it reached number seven). It's a musical reworking of a prayer to Krishna, and among the instruments used are the tambura played by Mills and the tabla of Himangsu Goswami. "Govinda" is the album's transcendental moment, a mantra chanted over a mid-tempo rock backing, George Harrison's India wrapped in a heartfelt mid-Nineties enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, on 16 September 1996, the debut album K was released. The cover, drawn by comic artist Dave Gibbons, depicts the faces of numerous real and fictional figures united by the letter K: from John F. Kennedy to Martin Luther King, via Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and... King Kong.

K sells close to a million copies in England alone and shoots straight to the top of the national chart. Kula Shaker bring a breath of fresh air to the record market with a sound that blends sixties psychedelia, seventies rock and colonial spices. All of it delivered with a grin plastered across their faces. The best proof is "Hey Dude", an irresistible blend of granite-hard drum rolls, flammable riffs, blazing wah-wah and youthful mayhem, a thunderous brainstorm that stands as an ode to joy to be savored at full volume.

The whole tracklist is littered with stunning songs, proof of a state of grace in which every melody soars on wings of innate lightness and every idea turns to gold. "Temple Of Everlasting Light" once again turns its gaze toward an East that's always lurking in the background, as does the weightless "Magic Theatre", which unfurls over mellotron touches. The noisy counterpart falls to "Smart Dogs", which moves nimbly across Zeppelin-esque horizons. And then there's "303", which literally lifts you off the ground with its guitar-and-organ groove, a pure pop-rock smoothie in technicolor. "Start All Over", perhaps the track closest to the jagged britpop galaxy, is followed - after thirteen minutes of silence - by the two parts of the hidden track "Hollow Man", closing the record on a crescendo of tone and solemnity.

Atypical and classicist in their own way, Kula Shaker blaze a new trail in British pop simply by looking backward rather than sideways.

From controversy to break-up

The commercial success mentioned above is followed, in 1997, by four Brit Awards nominations. Crispian Mills' band is the phenomenon of the moment. By the time they play the UK's biggest festivals (and beyond) that summer, their spot-on cover of "Hush" has already become a brand new hit for the London outfit.

Expectations surrounding Kula Shaker keep mounting, and in spring 1998 "Sound Of Drums" arrives, the first single from a sophomore record billed as imminent but which will actually come out almost a year later under the title Peasant, Pigs & Astronauts, finally released in February 1999. Two and a half years have passed since K came out, and yet - despite its resounding sales success - a lot has already changed. Mills' comments touching on Nazism (misunderstood, as it happens) have split fans and critics, and even the stylistic choice to keep following the winning path of the debut has to contend with a climate very different from those early days, losing the shine and freshness that made K the musical translation of an unmatched state of grace.

Peasant, Pigs & Astronauts, recorded at David Gilmour's Astoria Recording Studio moored on the Thames, therefore has everything you'd expect: psychedelic rock that looks to the classics while not shying away from updating itself with new Nineties sounds, duly stuffed with Indian influences (and instruments) alongside Hammond and Farfisa organs, in a kaleidoscope that aims to emulate its illustrious predecessor but only manages it in patches.

The aforementioned "Sound Of Drums" is the only song in the bunch produced by Rick Rubin and George Drakoulias. The rest of the album will be entrusted, following misunderstandings and fallings-out, to Bob Ezrin. Some of the best tracks are strategically placed near the front: "Great Hosannah" keeps the funk backbone and opens up into a choral chorus, "Mystical Machine Gun" puts itself forward as the anthem for a hypothetical second summer of love, "S.O.S." conjures a festive rock orchestration. The album's small masterpiece, though, is "Shower Your Love", a sumptuous pop song with an Eastern aftertaste that's nonetheless deeply immersed in those Nineties sounds already drifting toward the closing credits: something very close to rising stars Travis, to give you an idea. Rounding out the picture is the sonic folk of "108 Battles (Of The Mind)", the first bridge toward the Kula Shaker who will return in the new millennium.

The tracklist also includes the traditional chants "Radhe Radhe" and "Namami Nanda-Nandana" (plus the hidden track "Stotra"). The second half of the album is decidedly muted: "Timeworm" looks to Eastern folk but remains one of the most faceless tracks the Mills-Bevan duo ever wrote, and the fleeting blues of "Golden Avatar" also passes without leaving a trace. As for "Last Farewell", it's nothing more than a muted reprise of "Great Osannah".

Peasant, Pigs & Astronauts reaches number nine on the UK chart, but it brings no luck to Kula Shaker, who shortly afterward, following the summer festivals, break up to pursue wildly different paths. Mills puts together the pop-rock project The Jeevas, which brings him modest satisfaction. Darlington takes a break before settling in permanently with Oasis. Bevan does the same with Johnny Marr. Drummer Winter-Hart puts his name to other minor projects. The compilation Kollected, released in 2002, is the summary of a career cut short after just two albums, and it also includes the previously unreleased Bob Dylan cover "Ballad Of A Thin Man".

A second life in the new millennium

Things carry on like this until 2004, when Mills throws himself into a charity album with a Californian school that teaches subjects related to Indian religion. The record will come out in 2006, but in the meantime Mills reconnects with Bevan and Winter-Hart to write a track for the record's tracklist. Only Darlington is missing, turning down the invitation, but there's still enough for good old Crispian to start talking reunion to a press hungry for details. The three are joined by new keyboardist Harry Broadbent, and the new-old Kula Shaker start showing up live again too.

On 31 March 2006, somewhat unexpectedly, the EP "Revenge of the King" comes out: four new tracks plus a live version of old warhorse "Govinda". The following year will see a second EP released only for the Japanese market, titled "Freedom Lovin' People". These are the moves preceding the band's third album, which duly arrives in summer 2007.

Strangefolk shows a band that hasn't really changed all that much in the aims and results of its musical quest. What's changed is the backdrop, meaning the array of trends and musical productions that had meanwhile taken hold across Europe and the rock world at large.

And it's precisely this set of shifts that occurred in music at the turn of the new millennium that gives the Kula Shaker record its own particular value and "light". This record has no room for funky winks, jagged post-punk-schooled rhythms, quirky little choruses, or concessions to electronics or dance (the shared stock-in-trade of countless post-Franz Ferdinand anglophone bands). None of that. Instead, a kind of music so thoroughly out of step with its time that it feels almost timeless and beyond any trend, shaped by the clearly defined canons of a psychedelic neoclassicism it constantly honors and reaffirms.

The references are the same as always, as if nothing had happened in between – but wasn't it already like that in the fateful Nineties? In "Out On The Highway", "Second Sight" and the splendid "Die For love" we find the same painstaking vocal-harmony arrangements, the same balance in the choruses, the same carefully calibrated use of vintage instrumentation built around mellotron, Hammond, harmonica and Farfisa. Everything points to the solidity of a band that is now completely in sync with a rhythm and timing that belong to it alone, living in the shadow of a tradition whose authority is never crumbled or overhauled in too abrupt or instinctive a way.

In the scruffy blues of "Great Dictator", Mills seems to amuse himself playing with the accusations of pro-Nazi sympathies levelled at him by the British press over some of his ambiguous (and perhaps misunderstood) statements, and over a mythical t-shirt emblazoned with a swastika that in fact referenced the Eastern philosophies so dear to the band – accusations that had no small influence on Kula Shaker's decline in popularity at the end of the Nineties. "Strangefolk" brings back the psychedelic mantras stuffed with choirs and Eastern-tinged hymns and endless sonic spirals, the cross to bear and the delight of both fans and critics, while starting with "Song Of Love" a long stretch of placid, more acoustic-grained ballads begins, the best of which is undoubtedly "Fool That I Am", where Mills's timbre bears an at times striking resemblance to that of John Lennon.

The name Kula Shaker, however, is by now far from stirring the hearts of third-millennium rockers, and Strangefolk stays out of the hot zones of the charts, including at home.

The following year the four set to work on a new album which, due to disputes with the label, was not released until June 2010. Recorded in complete freedom at their own private studio, carefully hidden away amid the mystical forests of Belgium, echoing with mythical fairy tales and ancient folk legends, Pilgrims Progress reactivates the dusty psych-folk carousel so dear to the band, steeped in chanting merseybeat visions and spiritualist litanies that, however, in the new compositions tend to abandon the band's past (and notorious) Eastern infatuations (not always marked by a credible stylistic restraint, it must be said...) in favour of a more Celtic-continental brand of vocal mysticism.

Looking closely, the new tracks mostly betray a persistent pastoral prog-folk ambition that at times almost brings to mind certain Jethro Tull, especially on a long track like "Winters Call" or on "Ruby" and "Peter Pan RIP", built on acoustic phrasing that's very, very pleasing if hardly original. Little or nothing remains of the old spirituality, and one has to search for it in the crystalline folk-rock of "Ophelia", a direct descendant of Led Zeppelin's "Starway to Heaven", for a sense of the sacred now reduced to a fairy-tale dimension. The gradual shift towards folk is confirmed, moreover, by a track like "All Dressed Up", which forgoes exploding into a rock anthem and instead turns into an acoustic gallop. Closing the circle is "When A Brave Meets A Maid", an instrumental in which baroque and western atmospheres intertwine.

"Pilgrims Progress" is an honest, often well-written album, though irretrievably far from the expressive power of the band's early work, to the point of sometimes seeming reluctant to put its foot down on the accelerator where it could.

The lukewarm interest generated by the fourth album leads Mills to focus on projects that have little to do with music (a film to be started in early 2011). In December 2010 the single "Christmas Time (Is Here Again) / Snowflake" is released as a free download, while in September 2011 the deluxe edition of K – double CD plus DVD – is issued for the album's fifteenth anniversary.

A new return in classic-rock guise

Fans would have to wait until 2016 for a new album from the band, a sign that Kula Shaker simply can't manage more than two albums in a row. K 2.0 comes out on 12 February, and the title suggests a return to the style of their early days. In fact, only the lead single "Infinite Sun" and "Hari Bol (The Sweetest Sweet)" echo what the band did in the Nineties, while for the rest they remain devoted to the Sixties and Seventies without ever turning their attention back to their beloved India. There's also less focus on psychedelia than in the past, and what's offered is a series of tracks, some lively, some decidedly more laid-back, often recalling the band Crispian Mills led during Kula Shaker's hiatus, namely the Jeevas.

Among the former, worth noting are "Death Of Democracy", which recalls the best of Coral, "Love B With U", which boasts a lovely piano riff in its first part and well-judged vocal harmonies, and "Get Right Get Ready", which shows a very rock'n'roll attitude and vocal harmonies brought even further to the fore. Among the moments where the band eases off the accelerator, it's worth mentioning the other single "33 Crows", very classicist in feel, and "High Noon", round and velvety. There's also a third type of song, a minority since it's represented by only two tracks, "Here Come My Demons" and the closing "Mountain Lifter": both start off quiet and then gain strength and colour as they unfold.

On this record we find, once again, a good stylistic variety, a melodic sense that shows no signs of fading, Crispian Mills's recognisable and expressive voice, and fine work in terms of production, with arrangements that are not overly ambitious but never predictable, despite the obvious points of reference. What sets K 2.0 apart from the band's other records is a classic-rock garb, with all the caveats mentioned above. The band's detractors will keep saying it has never invented anything, but its musical quest remains alive and "hungry" album after album: Kula Shaker still want to try something different in how they apply their melodic and vocal style and their interpretive sensibility, and the results keep going their way.

Six years later, in June 2022, Kula Shaker drop another album: 1st Congregational Church Of Eternal Love (And Free Hugs).

In an up-and-down flow of irresistible grooves and bittersweet ballads that brush up against acoustic territory, Crispian Mills rediscovers not only his most congenial melodies, but also a lightness that, in the end, is perhaps nothing other than inner peace. Certainly, as the title says with a certain dose of inherent psychedelia, there is an underlying positivity to Kula Shaker's new repertoire, and it doesn't feel in the least bit forced. Or perhaps, rather, it's a shield to protect against an increasingly dark world. Who knows.

The imagery remains anchored to India, to its religion, its rites: the tracklist is punctuated here and there by a kind of spoken voice in Sanskrit that pops up at intervals ("Let Us Pray", etc.). A "presence" that in no way interferes, however, with the mood just described. And while it's true that Kula Shaker haven't invented anything on a sonic level, we challenge anyone not to call songs like "Whatever it Is (I'm Against It)", "108 Ways to Leave Your Narcissist" and "Gingerbread Man" purely Kula-Shaker-esque, with that peculiar mix of almost-blues guitars, clattering little organs and a mood that's downright bouncy, which no one else has ever managed to replicate.

While the instrumental crescendo of "Burning Down" represents another of the band's specialities, what's striking is the invisible thread linking tracks such as "Hometown", "Farewell Beautiful Dreamer" and "Shattered Bones" to the lesson of the Davies brothers, of whom Mills is evidently one of the most authoritative heirs. In a kind of descending itinerary in terms of tone, one comes across the muffled psychedelia of "The Once and Future King" and discovers that the soft atmospheres of "Love in Separation" and "After the Fall, Pt. 1" are another natural habitat for the British band, just as the classic rock that peeks through on "Where Have All the Brave Knights Gone" is. Not content with that, Kula Shaker even decide to try their hand at a "303 Revisited", which builds yet another bridge back to their early days – more conceptual than literal, in truth, but successful all the same. Revivals are welcome, if they serve to wake the originals back up.

Less than two years later, in February 2024, came Natural Magick. Where the previous record had seen the eternally youthful Crispian Mills and his band of fellow travellers construct a grand work that once again foregrounded the spiritual dimension tied inextricably to Indian religion, here that element, while still present (as it has been for thirty years now), takes a back seat to a successful attempt at crafting a set of breezy, immediate songs — catchy, we'd say, but in the best sense of the word. Less sophisticated but even more direct, then, both conceptually and musically, Natural Magick plays the "everything, right now" card, and wins that bet, because to this day no one writes melodies quite like Kula Shaker: never banal, yet able to hook you on first listen.

The opening trio of "Gaslighting", "Waves" (released as a single in 2023) and "Natural Magick" is enough on its own to make peace with that sound built on explosive guitar hooks, crackling Farfisa organ and irresistible choruses (the one on "Waves" is nothing short of perfect), catapulting us back into that strand of psychedelia steeped in britpop which has never stopped looking back, both to the Nineties and to a far from banal, more classic idea of rock, going all the way back to the legendary debut "K". It's no secret, after all, that British music of the Sixties and Seventies also lives on in Kula Shaker's sound, as shown by "Something Dangerous", a direct descendant of bands like The Kinks or The Yardbirds, and by the sweet closing moments of "Give Me Tomorrow", an old-fashioned ballad that, together with "Stay With Me Tonight", renews the band's tradition of love songs.

There's no shortage of spirited uptempo numbers like "Indian Record Player" and "Whistle and I Will Come" (bound to go down even better live), the raga rock of "Chura Liya (You Stole My Heart)", which alongside "Happy Birthday" reaffirms the band's bond with India, the anti-militarist funk of "F-Bombs" (in "Idontwannapaymytaxes" too, Mills declares: "I don't wanna pat for World War Three"), and a "Kalifornia Blues" that captures, better than anything, the carefree lightness at the heart of Kula Shaker's music. They haven't replicated the album from two years earlier, not in any respect, but in return they hand us another fine example of their craft.

At the end of January 2026 Kula Shaker released Wormslayer, marking the thirtieth anniversary of their debut "K". The album is yet another foray by the English band into that nowhere-place where britpop, psychedelic rock, folk and blues peacefully coexist, blissfully indifferent to trends, buzz and worldly trifles of all kinds. If we really had to look for something new, well, perhaps — and it's no small thing, on closer inspection — there's less of the East here than usual, less India, at least on the surface. Essentially the exact counterpart to "1st Congregational Church…", released three and a half years earlier, to which it is linked by the inspiration behind it.

There's plenty of psychedelia here, and not just between the lines but right out in front: it's not easy to find anything quite like "The Winged Boy" elsewhere in Kula Shaker's now-vast discography, an outpost that is, in its own way, a bold foray into the acid-drenched territories of the Seventies. If folk is somewhat in the minority this time in numerical terms (the excellent "Little Darling", the opening of "Shaunie", but also "Day For Night" and the reinterpretation of "Be Merciful"), what's striking — though only up to a point — is the quantity and quality of the singles released. We go from the dusty blues of "Lucky Number" to the loping midtempo of "Good Money", a trademark Kula Shaker seem able to reproduce endlessly.

Much the same could be said of "Charge of the Light Brigade", which picks up the pace and once again flirts with folk-rock. And while the title track brings back echoes of the spirit (and the deities) of "K", not without landing some solid electric blows, a chapter all of its own is deserved by "Broke As Folk", a track that holds its own against the band's output from three decades ago: a riot of Doors-esque organ and bass runs that spill over into grand choruses. For anyone not immune to this kind of thing, it's the stuff of goosebumps. Seriously.

Contributions by Francesco Giordani ("Strangefolk", "Pilgrims Progress") and Stefano Bartolotta ("K 2.0")

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