Labels: Crucificados – Fuck Yoga
Review by: Alex Deller
Oof, here’s one to pull your own fucking teeth out to and make no mistake: a vicious sonofabitch that sees the avant-noisemongering of San Fran’s Burmese going at it tooth and claw with Macedonia’s premier (arf!) doom monstrosity. Burmese first, and their one-of-a-kind drum/bass/hell/yell clatter is as hostile and unpredictable as ever, one moment spewing out ultra-fast blurts of feedback-riddled grind and sheet metal clang, the next descending into sphincter-quivering moments of blown-out electronic malevolence. Flipping the record and Potop certainly aren’t onboard to up the happy stakes any, befouling the air with two sprawling offerings that stagger from one drawn-out un-chord to the next while some wretched beast shrieks up the remnants of a diseased and tortured soul by way of vocals.