Strangulation. Desperation. Exasperation. Well done, shoe’s-untied lurking. Imagine the Functional Blackouts mutated with Henry Fiats Open Sore with dirty underwear over their ears: singing that’s more of a throat pounding itself, instruments that beat themselves up, and concentration camp siren’s type of anxiety piercing through all four songs. Could quite be the stuff of lullabies for serial killers. Smart, fatal, sneaky, and mean.
–todd (Big Neck)