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Slow gauze of eternal hypo-presence is the ultimate microwave ooze that settles post-plastic baking. Seems this vibe was in the thick air of the basement Radical Cemetery laid this set of tunes down in, a murky, deeply retro-active wormhole where deposits of alkaline and asbestos brew in a coldrun of familiarity. Lurking in the shadows of doom sludge, “N.N.E.” represents a wholly defiant concoction, as indebted to the harsh realities of “Dopesmoker,” as it is the sentient mist of a screwed free jazz.
Slow time. Breathe deep. Emerge new. Shield yr eyes. It's bright out there, but it's going to be ok. Pair with hot black coffee and EARLY morning dew and fog. Fully backed by midwestern heads far and wide. DD.Bones