Moke Grotton has allied himself with sadism and malevolence.  Blurry photographs, possibly vintage horror or snuff.  Little to see, small case.  You hear the devil grin on his face.  Reveling in madness.  Refusing to make sense.  But nothing overtly explicit.  Disrupting and changing the sound every few seconds to pull your grasp on reality away and prevent the emergence of structure.  Wailing voices of extradimensional phantoms.  Intentional  unreason.  To play is to create chaos.  This CD came on by accident once at my stereo's ordinary volume (far too loud for this music) and I jumped.  My ears may still be ringing.

The harshest  and loudest.  Sound is all in your face.  No echoes.  Like too bright lights slashing afterimages on your eyes.  He wants you to go crazy.  Or just to be intense, to live.  There is some serious substance.  Diverse textures in these tracks.  All loud.  And there is the immediacy I want in music.