Labels: Southern Lord
Review by: Alex Deller
What the fuck to make of Thrones? Joe Preston’s mostly one-man anomaly bloops, bubbles and burps like nothing much else, shifting shape as and when his strange whim dictates; from sluggardly doom, warped rock and drunken carnival rides there’s rarely a glimpse of the same train of thought to be had throughout this delirious collection of out-of-print, unreleased and compilation material. Unsettling repetition, failing robotics, glooping bass warps and a tinkling array of arcane electronic contraptions are variously employed in a series of stuttering experiments in sonic deviancy, all of which are deeply unsettling and neatly contextualized by Preston’s quietly hilarious liner notes. Essential for the infinitesimally small proportion of humanity that can make sense of it all, extremely worrying for the rest of you poor, poor bastards.