A clashing of violence that drums areas with tenderizing hammers that flush a waterfall gaze fluidity fighting every last heart beat left into plumes of wasteful treasure, articulating the gaps, preceding pretentiousness, lofty in waves of levels, and a climbing wall. That climbing wall soaked (if only covered —at this point— were an option) in Vaseline. As if “Monitoring Activity” stopped at Shoeg. Opening up a gateway between nods. Sparks of life pinging into one another. Busts of orange. You’re laughing. It’s a delightful sound(s), yes? Only on Memory No. 36 Recordings:
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