The frequency range is huge with speakers menaced by low frequencies that swallow the room, and high ones that shatter like digital glass. In this sonic environ Rodgers' surreal texts are delivered dry, surrounded by a bitter silence at times, and punctuated by Wall's improvised drones and glitches. It makes for a an uneasy listen, but one that is rewarding, opening up the flood-gates of personal associations tinged with Beckettian hopelessness, mysterious emptiness, and the episodic un-nerving babble-flux that is the 21th century.
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