Psych/experimental/basement/cult sounds from a place few have ever visited; electric guitars & old world monochrome electronics & organ buzz & burn atop drums & percussion & rumbling bass & drones looking for the way home; voices come and go & speak of the revolution. It's all 'chaos and confusion', as earlier brothers used to sing. Old bent collector trees ramble about Concrete Rubber Band, Madrigal, Yod & a sidetrip further down that country road than Virgil Caine ever dared to go, whiffs of Teutonical head overload drifting through it all. And even if you don't catch any of that, chances are you'll still agree on this: it's dark, ugly & primitive & you won't hear much like it anytime soon. 300 copies with insert.

"It's a darkly disturbing recording drawing on the fears and solitude of the wild forests close to [the] homestead. /.../ A record of many contrasts and hard to pigeonhole it will no doubt attain cult status in time." (Richard Allen, Shindig! Magazine)

"[A] satanic ritual going on in some dark, dank basement that one hopes the authorities never find out about. These surely must be the freakiest sounds these guys have ever laid down on wax." (Jeff Penczak, terrascope.co.uk)