Mention CCM and United Mutation and, yeah, I’m a dim enough fuck that I’ll pony up for a flexi that features less than four minutes of music. Choppy, wayward riffs zip in and out of focus while garbled vocals snuffle and holler in a worrying, slightly confused manner that suggests bands like Zouo and GISM may also play a part in Cicada’s listening regime. The last track is a vague, quasi-psychedelic pootle that’s a bit nothingy by itself, but does hint at greater weirdness – would be neat to hear this incorporated elsewhere, or stretched out to the point of fuckwittery on a tape or full-length piece of vinyl.
