Butterfly caught in a spiderweb. Shattered stained glass windows. Three legged dogs. A black eye on your best friend.

There isn’t an easy comparison for the dire, wounded poise of this record, a secret pact between beauty and fear. The songs are pensive and worry-stained, all minimal, bluntly entrancing riffs, insistent drumming, and tense, reverberant synthesizers. The futuristic propulsion of Kraftwerk filtered through the raw-knuckled roughness of Suicide?

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