artwork courtesy of Gerbils Gulag
You’re not gonna make it out alive. A holistic blast of buried orchestra-tinged exorcism. This is free, buzzed-out, blown-up, drugged knuckle-dragging in its highest form. Sometimes there’s wandering voices in the background, and sounds like breaking into a Freemason HQ at 2am. I’ve got no idea what’s being played here – the Grand Canyon on a horse’s-tail-hair bow, maybe? All I know is I feel like I’ve woken up in a field, naked except for the warm blanket of an orange sun.
Side B is even bigger, brighter, more acid-edged and freaked-out than the first. Vocal trepidation, jet-engine guitars (maybe?) coming in for a crash landing on your veins. Or, melted glop running down the drain, spiraling out of sight. Or, tapes spliced up with a battle axe and pieced together with duct tape. Your call, boss. A total magnum opus of droned-out euphoria. Limited to sixteen snow white hand-numbered tapes.
Contact Young Freebooters for downloads.
