Apocalyptic dead fall drums, cinder fringed...an empty canteen fatigue in atomised guitar … a caustic wave cuts through this ambience, wreckage shivers beneath it's delicious acrimony... splitting hairs in oily colours as nailed tin bangs out a garbage coda on the shore…
The metal hits... it’s clanking gives me the This Heat twitches… but this is way more phosphorescent, chaotic... to be later choked in treble and rendered thoroughly alien… Stuttering phaser accompaniment, like bacterial cities laid waste on fizzing dentures…
This oversaturated spillage is miles removed from the hooded comedies of Sunn 0))) or any other hammer horror dirge, as the notion of something uninvited creeps out of the multilayered ampage... The spindle legged insect eye and acrylic smears of the artwork, just adding to the experience.
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P.I.P JOE