Cold, raw strangulation. Scraping the flesh from the inside of a pelt with a stone. Without a melody in sight, Rainbow Person is a desolate affair—sounding bleach white and coal black—like the disintegrating silhouette of a Solzhenitsyn buzzard circling over a Siberian gulag. Dire shit. Makes Born Against almost sound like a hummable jingle for a retirement village advertising an attached golf course. I tip my cap to the disintegrating, teeth grinding atmosphere they pull off. Kudos, also, to the hand-letter pressed, thick cardboard cover and obvious close attention to the packaging. Bleak. Convincing.
–todd (Television / Margin Mouth)