Remember Soundgarden? Like Queens Of The Stone Age? Still air guitar in front of the bedroom mirror, albeit with the sludgiest riffs firmly in mind?

Buy this. Right now.

Millionaire return to the stoner-cum-desert-cum-bass-heavy-bastard rock fray wielding a monster of a double-A-sided seven inch. 'We Don't Live There Anymore' possesses the kind of hypnotic guitar work and drugged-to-comatose vocals that producer Josh Homme would've killed for on his day job's latest long-player. The flipside, 'For A Maid', is a more immediate effort, the choppy riffs and squealed vocals coming on like the bizarre product of a melting pot containing PJ Harvey, some scenesterfied tight-tee'ed types and Kyuss, spat out through the poisonous throat of a gargantuan snake and onto the sizzling hotplate of a cowboy-hatted redneck, ready for gutting back.

The album, Paradisiac, follows later this year. Expect to rock the fuck out.