KORB IV by Korb

released August 22, 2025

Regulars of the blog will know I’ve been a passenger on the good ship Korb for a while now, and every time Alec Wood and Jonathan Parkes chart a new course, I know I’m in for a trip. Together we’ve flown across alien plains, drifted past cosmic temples, and chased mythic birds through the ether but Korb IV takes us somewhere else entirely. The vintage kosmische foundation is still here, but this time our compass points east, deep into jungles thrumming with life, neon-lit city streets, and sacred temples echoing with ritual. There’s Thai rock in the air, Eastern psychedelia in the haze, a touch of earth music grounding the voyage and a sly funk undercurrent that keeps the whole journey moving with an irresistible sway. Let’s drop the needle and set off on another adventure with Korb.
From the first moments of ‘Procession’ we step into the humid air of a far-off ancient ritual outside a towering temple. The pacing is measured, and the synth tones feel alien and organic at the same time, it makes you feel part of something ageless and important. It’s a short opening, but it sets the tone.
‘Dream Chamber’ invites us inside the temple and its dimly lit with a space funk vibe emanating all around. It’s a languid almost sensual sound, wah guitars and a synth led groove. Heads are nodding and toes begin to tap. Shhh! I think its starting.
Exiting the temple into the sunlight the brilliantly titled ‘Om Nom Shiba’ kicks in like a street parade winding through a back alley. The beat is tight and compact, the melodies playful like catching glimpses of colour and sound as you dart between market stalls.
Then we’re falling…. Landing in some dark tunnel we stumble on a ‘Psyonic Ceremony’. This one feels like a trance state; layers of texture coil around a steady pulse, and you can almost see flickering torchlight against carved stone. It’s a short passage, but it opens a door to something deeper.
We stumble through the door into …… A ‘Dance Ritual’! This is where Korb IV starts to move your body as much as your mind. This is pure space funk. Nimble bass, tight percussion, and a groove that locks in hard. It’s uplifting in a way only Korb could go for, and it’s impossible not to start moving. In my head, we’re in a sweaty Bangkok nightclub at 2am, walls vibrating, bodies swaying, everybody locked into the same cosmic rhythm.
‘Spirit Animal’ drops the lights low again, conjuring imagery of masks, feathers, and slow, deliberate movements around a fire. The funk is still there, but it’s buried in something more mysterious, more ritualistic. I love how there’s these moments where the song opens up like you’ve just danced into a patch of shimmering moonlight. As we do our feet leave the ground.
‘Taking Flight’ does exactly what it says. You can feel the ground drop away as soaring melodic lines lift you up over the canopy. The wind rushes past, the jungle floor recedes, and the horizon opens up. This isn’t some rocket propelled flight. No, this is a gentle ascension
And then comes ‘Quadra’. The centrepiece of the album and one of Korb’s finest moments to date. It’s a long-form, funk-driven space exploration seen from the jungle floor. Motorik rhythm merged with deep groove, sunlight cutting through the leaves in golden shards. Every instrument feels alive and organic, as if the band are jamming with the forest itself. I cannot stress enough how good this track is.
After the soaring space flight ‘Magma Fields’ takes us to harsher terrain. Slow, molten and glistening synths suggest volcanic landscapes, heat shimmering in the distance. There’s a tension here, like crossing dangerous ground to that strange dark shape on the horizon.
But, its not just a shape…. It’s an ‘Obsidian Temple’. It feels like stepping inside a vast, dark structure. Every note echoes, angular percussion clattering off the black walls, synths cutting through like shafts of light. It’s dramatic, reverent, and more than a little intimidating. The temple roof opens and we ascend once more. ‘
Levitation’ is exactly that weightless, floating just above the treetops, carried by a gentle but insistent rhythm. There’s an ominous blissful quality to it, the sense of drifting wherever the wind takes you but not knowing exactly where that is. The congas set the pace and synth stabs colour our eyes and ears if only for a moment here and there. Before long the darkness starts to extend its reach.
‘Eclipse’ closes the journey. It’s brief but potent — a moment of stillness as the light fades and shadows stretch. The jungle quiets, the dance is over, and the stars begin to reclaim the sky. The synths play long and slow undulating drone notes. Forever embedding the memories of this journey until next time.
What makes Korb IV so special is how it blurs its influences into one seamless, sensorial trip. The kosmische backbone remains, but it’s fleshed out with heat, colour, and movement from far beyond the European tradition. It’s the sound of cultures bleeding into each other in the best possible way. Korb IV picks up the analogue baton and bolts into new terrain, where motorik highways twist through Eastern temples, and Thai rock ghost-riffs flicker across desert skies. This is head music rooted in the soil. Sun-cracked funk rhythms, space rock textures, and smoky melodies that bloom like incense in the air. Synths shimmer like heat mirages. Guitar’s drone and chime with hypnotic insistence. Basslines slink low, nodding toward crate-dug funk while Moog and synth lines swirl in a cosmic dance. It’s the sound of a space station growing wild with vines, a journey across psychic terrain and forgotten cultures, all imagined through reel-to-reel dreams and valve-warmed gear.
If you’ve travelled with Korb before, this will feel both familiar and thrillingly new. If you’re boarding for the first time, Korb IV is as good a place as any to start your voyage. Just be warned, you might not want to come back.

Mark Anderson, Static Sounds Club