Here is a man utterly dissecting himself and examining his own contents. His approach is almost clinical in how brutal his introspective search is. He doesn’t hate what he discovers, but he is less than impressed. Peter Escott manages to convey the muddled thoughts of the self a lot more eloquently than anyone else has ever come close to.
The songs are almost tribal in their simplicity yet also sound from an age we are yet to reach. The drums pound ritualistically. The synths flutter and swirl organically. They interchange from a punishing grind to heady danceable breakdowns from song to song. Think Tetsuo: The Iron Man blending with Avatar, or Asimov writing Heart of Darkness.