Ruminating guitars falling apart in dream cadence along the dunes of reverberating deserts… rusty strings creeping out of the blue void and stirring stagnant static inside derelict wagons, then gliding upwards as helium knives, seeping into the cracks of the heavenly drone dome… humus of stratified tapes intersecting in shaky scaffoldings of ghostly meaning and ephemeral connections… tumbling tumbleweeds on the lamb, picking up bruised shreds of found sounds along the slippery slope… a rock band trapped inside an invisible Maelstrom, pummeling out doomed formulae of obsessive spiral motifs and arithmetical mourning as the waking titan begins to pour salt water on the roof of the house… guitar meanderings of sublime fatigue, pushing the weight of their own coffins across an ever expanding desert… so goes crab to sun. Acousmatic, poetic, ominous, disturbingly beautiful.
