Rarely are we afforded a glimpse into the Nega, the world as it would exist if we were born where toilets flushed in a different direction, football is played on a field shaped like a football, and summer happened during the winter. Not only is this the reality of label Dungeon Taxis, this is also the spaced nega-Earth of Kraus. Supreme Commander is nonstop sludge; rock ‘n’ roll brought back from its pissy grave. It’s angry, so it’s all fucks and shits in heavy reverb and distortion. Middle fingers play mindless solos as Jimi and Janis hurl their flaming skulls across an Apocalyptic sky. Flesh melts and hell opens up, because even though we allowed rock ‘n’ roll to be buried decades ago under layers of disco balls, boy bands, and fashion magazines, Kraus’ Ouija board reach-out has brought it back around to give us one last burning reach-around. It feels all so pleasurable, but the pain of an existence spent being tortured by demons are oh so worth it.
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