Seems apt that we should be listening to this mid way through the witching hour. Not I hasten to add for those suffering with nervous dispositions this is another set that we managed to trip across on a recent band camp soiree by the charmingly named Dead Fetus via equilateral records. Again absolutely no information with which to impart except to say that he / they hail from Portland and describe their sound as anti pop electronic alien youth rave thrash and with that we were tempted to leave the review feeling we couldn’t add anything else worthy of merit. However us being us we just couldn’t leave well alone without putting in our tuppence. Now from the cover which depicts some trick or treat ghoul dressed head to toe in a black gown you’d be inclined to assume this lot are a cheerless collective with the introductory greeting cut ‘rise’ serving only to strengthen the resolve in your belief given its eerily stilled in a macabre welcoming that makes Vincent Price’s sonorous speeches at the start of his ‘price of fear’ radio shows positively child’s play. Matters don’t lighten with the emergence of the ice frosted dread of the horror phonic industrial grimness of ‘mercy’ or the sinister chill exacted by ‘flesh and bone’. but stay the course because what emerges isn’t quite your hide behind the sofa ill at ease listening experience instead a well crafted slab of industrial cultured dark techno hatches from the apocalyptic debris where the white noise bleached Balearic visitations of ‘bleed dry’ co-exist in groove space with the mutant beats lo-fi trance gouged ‘end u’. all said though best of the set by some distance is ‘penicillin’ all festival anthem like tripped with buzz sawed motifs, trip hop beats softly soaked in peaks of euphoria and celestial chorus’.