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Taking out penance on the audience, the big industrial rhythmic opening is like jackbooted monks marching to some chilly crypt. The melting solder notes course like tunnel excavations or the passing of some great sky ship's daylight blackout. The very un-silent running of black panelled freighters smearing everything in LED pocked audio oil slicks. Like insect legs Dilloway's spindly tape work jangles and bonds with the conserve mass of Young and Kenney's work.
The second piece converts a grand old modulated melody into swirls of a sprawling chthonian counter notes. Dilloway's click-and-brutal-chop bursts wire and sockets into a full-on electricity moulting, synths and boxes tuned to putrefy mode. As it stirs, the piece becomes something akin to snail's pace wintery doom metal…sort of.
With a big black low slung bass sound, legs spread in rock mode Demons are continuing to swell their sound.
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