Every so often, the pure cleansing fury of a good harshhead ritual is demanded. More so I’d imagine when plainly heretical pursuits threaten to malign the internal consistencies keeping the head (the harsh one) screwed on a’right. Here, buffeted by perfect storms of harsh electronics & feedback, the head- harsh and otherwise- has barely space to think let alone channel its förtvivlan in the efterspel of a reverse-engineered piss poor performance. Put away that weepy guitar son, it's time w- incoming

WHOOOoooooooOOOOOOSH.