King Ghidra - Take Me To Your Leader (LP) - 45RPM

King Geedorah’s Take Me To Your Leader landed on 17 June 2003 through Big Dada, and it still feels like a portal to a weirder, richer hip hop universe. MF DOOM’s choice to step behind the mask of a three headed space dragon was more than a quirky alias. It was a full concept, a way to tilt the camera and let the world look crooked for 50 minutes while he controlled every moving part. He produced the whole record, threaded it with dialogue and sound effects nicked from old kaiju flicks, and then mostly handed the mic to his circle so the monster could survey the damage from a distance.

If you came in through MM..FOOD or Madvillainy and want to know where that kitchen sink imagination was sharpened, this is the one. The opener, Fazers, sets the tone with a woozy loop and drums that seem to lean back in their chair. DOOM raps here, all sly internal rhymes and side eye punchlines, but the production is the real star. He has a knack for letting dusty samples breathe, then clipping them just when you think you’ve got the pattern clocked. The Fine Print is another DOOM showcase, a lyrical clinic with a beat that feels like it was salvaged from a late night sci fi broadcast. Between those anchor points, he lets the Monsta Island Czars crowd run riot. Next Levels rides a soulful chop that lifts without getting syrupy, while No Snakes Alive snaps with true cypher energy, bar after bar, the villain cackling behind the boards.

What makes Take Me To Your Leader so enduring is how carefully it’s sequenced. The interludes are not filler, they are scene changes. You get a sense of place, of a Saturday arvo spent in front of a battered CRT, antenna twisted just so, watching rubber suited destruction while the ads hiss. DOOM loved that atmosphere. You hear it in the textures, in the way he lets hiss and crackle sit in the mix, in how melodies feel found rather than composed. Yet it never drags. Even Krazy World, which rolls with a slower gait, keeps the tension tight through its arrangement and sly hooks.

Critics clocked the magic at the time. Outlets like Pitchfork and AllMusic praised the scope and the way DOOM bent the album form to his will. Fans kept it alive as one of his most complete statements, precisely because it proves he could be a curator as much as an MC. Lots of rappers claim to be world builders. DOOM actually built one, then invited friends to explore it while he flicked the lights and set the angles.

If you collect King Geedorah vinyl, this album is the pillar. The Take Me To Your Leader vinyl pressings do justice to the low end and the grit, and the artwork hits harder in full size. It is the kind of record you spot on a wall in a Melbourne record store and feel your pulse jump. For folks hunting vinyl records Australia wide, it is a staple, the sort of piece that sparks conversations at the counter about favourite DOOM aliases and which Monster Island cut goes the hardest. If you prefer to buy King Geedorah records online, keep an eye on Big Dada and Ninja Tune stockists, since re-ups vanish quick. And if you are chasing King Geedorah albums on vinyl more broadly, slot this next to Operation Doomsday and the Viktor Vaughn joints to see his alternate identities click into place.

There is also a quiet generosity to the way DOOM runs the show here. He barely hogs the spotlight. The guests get long runways, and the beats are tailored to each voice without losing that dusty, off kilter colour. You can hear his editor’s ear in the way hooks tuck into the pocket and in how he ends songs before they overstay. That restraint is part of why it plays front to back so well. No bloated posse cuts, no grandstanding, just a patient vision that trusts the listener.

Two decades on, Take Me To Your Leader still feels like a transmission from a cooler timeline. Put it on late, let your room go dim, and let the villain navigate. If your shelves have a space next to your other DOOM related gems, fill it with this. It is the rare concept album that sounds less like homework and more like finding a secret entrance behind the new release racks, where the good stuff has been hiding the whole time.