There was no exact point at which this creature first came to be. From a thousand escaped school lunch-times its foetus emerged. It fed from a vast and varied diet; from the neo-psychedelia of Wand, Pond and Post-animal, to the doom of the Melvins, the crunch of Queens of the Stone Age and the edged alt-rock of Pixies and the Wytches.
Independent and strictly DIY, it does everything with its very own organs. It is birthing itself. Slowly. Painfully. But surely. It is ready to excrete all its angular treats, to regurgitate its soup of psychedelia and vomit its bilious fuzz-rock sludge.
‘a Picasso-painting of a sound; angular, disjointed but far from two dimensional.’
– Brum Live
‘They’re aiming for something more unconventional, more daring. They’ve succeeded.’
– Louder Than War