Joey’s disc is three tracks of Dr Phibes in a hall of broken mirrors… keyboard warbles shivering out on their shattered reflections, Gnostic groans following along the over saturated trails, everything tipping out over the edges of reason, digging beyond words…the organ’s teeth gnawing at the edges of the sound, trying to escape its confines. The last track is definitely the best; most haunted number… alien vox, pin cushioned by the dread of church organ manoeuvres. A funeral for the soul, shimmering through on a lo-fi half-life… surreal noise moments that throw a chill over your bones…
Kushima’s disc is one epic number… a one cord death wish funnel of vibrating hell… and growing beat. The texture’s here really excite, shavings of something almost ethnic replaced with shrill clashes and grinding surfaces… mutant vocals that rise ablaze, phoenix-like, over police siren nose dives and whistling pulses… everything sounds fucked, but manages to forge something deliciously avant-Scottish out of the mixture… an asthmatic bag-pipe chorus that’s pure celebration…
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