The woozy, witchy basement psych-doom jams on Kabbalah’s second album sound like they were created by heavily sedated members of an esoteric religious cult, sometime between the Black Sabbath debut and the Manson Family murder trial. The Spanish trio are already homing in on a sound that’s all their own: the seasick riffs that creepy-crawl unsteadily along the fretboard; the wild, warm, spontaneous rhythm section; ancient organs that undulate unnervingly, like a horror soundtrack with bad VHS tracking; and Marga’s beguilingly off-kilter vocals, ranging from multi-tracked harmonies radiating oddly dystopian sweetness, to a too-cool-for-school biker-chick sneer, to a possessed ghostly chant. The result is an album that stands out even from the last 15 years of psychedelic, occult doom, resounding with a singularly tight bond of chemistry and a haunting, faraway atmosphere as thick as a whale omelette. ■■■■■■■■■■