An absolute whirl of interlocking sounds textures and tempos, you could be mistaken for thinking that the master tape got warped in the sun. Party? Party?? Play this at a party and prepare to spend 6 months on bail.
What you get is a variously disorientating, draining and divine hybrid of Don Caballero, Larks’ Tongues In Aspic-era King Crimson and the more obtuse side of Battles, a molten, miasmic melange of skittering guitar figures, pulsing polyrhythms and arpeggios that dance skywards like lightning bolts in reverse.