Think dynamite. Think orphanages. Think madcap intensity and craziness condensed down into minute-long songs with spastic time changes, crazy musicianship spewed forth in 17 bite-sized portions, which is tasty enough until you realise what you’ve got in your mouth is laced with broken glass and buffalo urine, all in 23 minutes – just about enough time for flesh-eating locusts to strip the flesh from your puny frame. Two sorts of vocals: the ones that are all high and go ‘nyaarggh’ and then the low ones that go ‘bloaarghh’ and an utterly infernal din made with just guitar and the drums (though sometimes you might not be able to believe it). It’s insanity as a Joseph-Conrad spouting artform, an aural hand grenade of stunningly good, hyper-technical metallic grind for the kids to sink their fangs into. These “kids”, of course, being the ones with beady, yellowish eyes and reptilian faces beneath those human masks…
