A savagely twisted release from Geld, and one that drags their white-hot psychedelic hardcore toward ever stranger horizons. The sound is blistered and blasted from the off, with torn strips of D-beat flapping madly in the wind while raw, near-blackened vocals cackle and caw. If it initially sounds like something you can draw a bead on (a mangled, abstracted Disclose?) those theories soon begin to wobble, and by the time ‘Trench’ hits it’s all you can do not to claw out your eyes while laughing wildly along to the song’s maniacally playful bass line. Feedback whistles and whines, riffs unspool in wiry tangles and ideas are stretched far beyond their rational breaking point. Instead of collapsing in a gibbering heap, however, Geld emerge from the experience wide-eyed and lucid … as though they’ve discovered some deep hidden truth while concocting the only record you might ever hear that begs comparisons to Grave New World (band, not album), Rusted Shut and Liquorball.