Buckshot rides the seat with the hump while dumbo humps the main menu, holding down the circular drum pattern. Circular saw shreds through the symmetry, an auto plant bot gone haywire. Flash flood tears tear the interior asunder. The year is 1982. The bass skin-walker is an organ transplant, happy-footed, from salad days, from Wurlitzer days, before the phantom. The vocalist is angrier than Scott Walker’s hecklers, perhaps because he is buried back behind the dunes, behind the main waves and ripples of the rhythms in orbit. They are the stars of the show, while the circular saw guitar and vocals are employed to enhance and color the violence. RIP.
• Dais Records: http://daisrecords.com/site
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