Bardo Pond has been shattering synapses and squeegeeing third eyes with their roaring, mesmerizing brand of space rock since they kindled the “Psychedelphia” scene in the early ’90s, and pesky inevitabilities like getting “too old to eat mescaline every day” appear not to faze them; their latest efforts are as heavy and damaged as ever, and they continue to make no bones about what inspires their crushing soundscapes: drugs, drugs, and more drugs, with maybe some free jazz, krautrock, and noise thrown in for good measure. While bad-trip bleariness and cosmic onanism would obscure the merits of lesser bands, Bardo Pond are expert psych alchemists, tempering anarchic feedback-choked freak-outs with with ecstatic, visionary peaks and haunting, blissful reveries. Definitely bring earplugs; any of the myriad hallucinogens referenced in their music are optional. (Hannah Franklin)