Well, this is dark and uncomfortable. Four tracks of dissociated, post-punky hardcore with unsettling monotone vocals. The lyrics are rife with serial killer references and blasé death threats to the general public. A Flipper sort of nihilism radiates off this thing; the band probably would have printed the artwork in black on black if they could have. The sing-songy way the vocalist drawls “Track mark arms race” over and over at the end of the cassette is the most shudder-inducing thing I’ve heard in months. But for some reason I let it flip and start over again?

 –Indiana Laub (Self-released, [email protected])