Of all the West Coast psych-rock practitioners keeping the patchouli flames burning, Sleepy Sun initially seem like the most laidback. On opener "Marina," lazy, distorted chords drag under dual singers Bret Constantino and Rachel Williams's narcotic croons. However, soon a tribal rhythm kicks in and the reverie is snapped. It's a trick employed again and again across Fever, and it defines Sleepy Sun's modus operandi: fooling you into filing them under "stoner jams" before assaulting you with motorik grooves and full-on freakouts. "Desert God"'s midway explosion into gospel-like exhortations and pained shrieks feels particularly potent.

The 10-minute album closer "Sandstorm Woman" packs in everything the group has learned and acquired across Fever and debut album Embrace. It's a disorienting desert trip through clouds of feedback and swirls of distortion, a long, strange trip that gallops direct from sun-parched SoCal to your speakers.