Labels: Deleted Art
Review by: Alex Deller
Coruscating layers of noise ushering in some kind of cold, bleak industrial dawn. Vague clatters like shopping trolleys plummeting down lift shafts in abandoned tower blocks. Machinery ticking over. The regimented stomp of jackboots on cracked tarmac. Stretches and drones like an insistent buzz lurking within the inner ear. Played quietly it’s falling asleep to the disquieting crackle of an untuned radio. Played at volume the thing is a blanket of white noise and nerve-shredding paranoia. At certain points the dislocated yells of unquiet spirits groan through the circuitry, like ghosts in the proverbial machine. And while they’re far from comforting it’s still somewhat reassuring to know that buried deep inside their mess of pedals, cables and homemade boxes there’s some once-human heart still pumping at the centre of it all, mechanically assisted or otherwise.