artwork courtesy of Erin Wilson
When playing becomes ritual, when derangement becomes religion, there is only magik. Behind us nothing, stretching out before us, nothing. In a single moment is all, seeing before seen, glorious lights upon upturned faces, tears streaming down as understanding floods our cells. Life is deadly, make it scream before we fade forever away.
At it’s purest, recorded music is two things: basements and one track recorders. YF’s newest transmission starts out with some fuzzed heavy riffage and synth overload while progressively deconstructing itself to a totally zoned out “I forgot we we’re recording” style gem. Much more chill then their previous blown out shred fests. In a numbered edition of 16 stamped tapes in free-form mind collage sleeves protected by crystal cases.
Earth drones make dreamy lullabies…
Contact Young Freebooters for downloads.
