ORB - The Space Between (LP) - Black/White Vinyl

There’s a special kind of heft to ORB’s third LP, The Space Between. Released in 2018 on Flightless, it lands like a meteor from the label’s golden run, the period when every few months another heavy psych record seemed to roll out of Melbourne with real purpose. ORB have always worn their love of Sabbath and space rock on their sleeves, but this one feels more lived-in, more sure of its own gravity. It’s still all low-slung riffs and cosmic drift, but the band’s sense of drama and pacing has sharpened to a blade.

The trio of Zak Olsen, Daff Gravolin and Jamie Harmer play with a shared intuition that makes the long arcs feel weightless. Guitars rumble in drop-tuned unison then peel apart into strange, spiralling harmonies, like a comet splitting into twin tails. The tones are thick as tar, but not dull. You can hear the fizz of the fuzz, the bite of the pick on string, the spring-loaded bounce of the amp. Bass locks to the kick in a way that makes the whole room throb, and the drums crack with a dry, room-mic’d snap that suits these riffs down to the ground. When the band let a passage ride for a couple of minutes, it never feels like padding. It’s the kind of repetition that pulls you deeper, the way good krautrock does, until a small change feels seismic.

What keeps The Space Between engaging is how it balances weight and lift. One minute you’re wading through a lumbering, minor-key figure that nods to doom, the next you’re sailing on a clean, chiming interlude tinged with phaser and that slightly seasick pitch wobble. ORB don’t go in for showy solos. They favour lines that sound sung through a guitar, motifs that return like old satellites blinking into view again. Vocals are laconic and a touch distant, half incantation and half warning siren, which fits the band’s sci-fi lean without tipping into pastiche. There’s a sense of humour here too, the wry kind you hear in the Australian underground all the way back to Coloured Balls and up through the Flightless stable. It keeps the record from becoming dour.

Part of the charm is how the record sits in the broader world it came from. ORB are part of that tight knot of bands and friends that made Flightless such a scene, linked to King Gizzard and The Lizard Wizard and The Murlocs by stages, studios and sharehouses. You can hear the cross-pollination in the willingness to push a simple idea until it opens up a new pocket of sound. Still, The Space Between is its own beast. It’s less frantic than the Gizz universe, more patient than a lot of riff rock, and far more psychedelic than any straight stoner revival act. It aims for that floaty point where a hard riff becomes hypnotic and, for the most part, it hits.

If you’re the type who files records by feel, this one lives comfortably between your Hawkwind and Sleep sides. It’s also one of those albums that rewards a proper listen on a turntable. The Space Between vinyl pressing from Flightless has the low-end presence these songs need, and when the chorus pedals start to shimmer it’s easy to drift off with the needle. It pops up often in Melbourne record store bins, and if you’re hunting ORB vinyl outside the city, plenty of shops that specialise in vinyl records Australia wide will ship it promptly. You can also buy ORB records online through the usual indie suspects, which is handy when your local’s copy walks out the door before payday. Collectors who like to line up label runs will find The Space Between sits neatly among other ORB albums on vinyl and the broader Flightless shelf.

The album’s legacy is a quiet one, but solid. Fans tend to point to it as the record where the band’s influences and instincts clicked into focus, and revisiting it makes that claim feel fair. There’s no sense of strain, no filler. Just three musicians who know exactly how long to hold a chord, how hard to hit the crash, and when to let silence do the talking. It’s music built for rooms that smell like valve amps and old carpet, yet it still glows on headphones at midnight.

If you’ve been circling ORB for a while, this is the place to land. If you’re new, it’s a welcoming entry point to their world and to the Flightless orbit that spun around it. Grab The Space Between vinyl, cue side A, and let those first bars set the pace for your evening. It’s heavy, with real hang time. And in a catalogue of great Australian psych, it still holds its own.