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An unhealthy infatuation with American music might earn someone a reputation for tunnel vision, especially with all the different kinds of music in the world. The blues and jazz (perhaps two of America's greatest treasures) have escaped to other shores, though, and there it sounds as foreign as anything an oud or a gamelan could produce.
Musically the best thing this standard quartet has to offer is a cover of a Dead Can Dance song. Thematically, the band makes broad, misconstrued statements that make Michael Moore look like a moderate in the lap of Rush Limbaugh.
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Recorded in one day, then processed over three years, here is an orgasmic maelstrom. Transmitting as much calm unease as bewildering force, Aufgehoben's third release is beautifully fleet-footed, intensely musical, tantalising ugly and almost tangibly sexual. As if a winged piledriver were coupling with a steel drum, in a furnace.
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