Description
On ‘Metal River’, Richard Youngs offers four songs of deep space beamed curdled electronics not far removed from being akin to the contorted death caterwauls of a cyborg species reaching out in uttermost anguish. It’s like prime Edgar Froese getting snagged on incapacitants before tumbling headlong into a dingy cellar that then has its door slammed shut and locked before one notices the only company is accorded by body parts in dusty and mouldy demijohns.
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