The opener is probably the most noxious piece of the three, the air conditioning unit panic of "Black Star Pedigree" builds into black greasy shimmers, coaxing worms from coffins. The clang-under-drone of "Perpeual Discomfort" has elements of uncleanliness, a mottled buzz of breath trough dirty filters like mauled dirt bikes.
As unpleasant a song title as "Nicotine Birth" is, that fact thankfully hasn't come out in this succinct slice of music. This piece's frequency shuffle sounds like it was created with intricate detail crouched over painted flecked black boxes. Slowly coming and going like shortwave transmissions through a single headphone, it sounds like copper wires stretched slowly into nothing while the track plays on. This is nice and minimal, no complaints there, but I want it heavier, deeper and longer next time.
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