Bone saws and a shortwave radio stuck between a dead frequency and the live broadcast of a roto-tiller in a scrap-metal landfill competes for your attention.
Obsessively-reiterated Farfisa runs, cheesy vocal fx, and a sense of besotted irresponsibility that brings to mind the proto-neo-retroistics of Fleshtones.
Everything is seamlessly edited together with plenty of jump cuts. KMFDM fans will still be fans, although Blackman enthusiasts will have to look elsewhere.
Sometimes it all becomes too refined. Don’t you want to have a cheap, shitty, gutter brew? Don’t you want to relish the pain it takes to swallow Popov vodka?