Today, don’t scourge yourself with knotted ropes. Don’t flay the skin off your back. Instead search out ‘A Trial In Our Native Town’ by Denmark’s Savage Rose. Taken at a pace more suited to a pagan funeral procession, this 1968 endurothon occupies in reality an early ’90s doom monster for its sheer drunken howling-at-the-moon intensity. Annisette’s colossal vocal range takes us stratospheric as she unleashes a bizarre list of practices that leave listeners perplexed and scratching their heads. More mysterious than The Wicker Man, more ritualistic than ‘Not To Touch The Earth’. These renegade Scandos who during the early ’70s played free gigs at PLO camps: they are the types we should think about more often.