This musical tour de force is Krakatau and Vesuvius exploding from the speakers.

Thirteen unnamed numerical tracks of unremitting cold seething electronics touched with the hands of old school Industrial noise.

Bordering just below the pain threshold of tolerance each track pummelled mercilessly forever onward. Ears popping and stinging with every throbbing frazzled note they were forced to endure. The vocals matching the music in intensity and nastiness.

Half the time I couldn’t make out a word being screamed out and thrust in my direction. Distorted and contorted the vocals were a suitable foil for the abject musical accompaniment. This machismo music machine was kicking sand in my puny frame and resistance was futile to its threatening posturing.

The ever present walls of sound and voice reducing me to a quivering wreck. Fuck you it screamed. Fuck you…for this is the real deal. And fucked I duly was. Head fucked. Mind fucked. Body fucked…. but by then I didn’t really care. There were no external wounds showing for the punishment I was taking. Internally though was a different matter. I accepted all that befell me with a big stupid grin plastered to my face. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.