Had you sold me this saying it was a thought lost forgotten release from the late 70’s, you know the kind that appear variously on vault clearing compilations and you tube, then I’d have mourned and no doubt scratched my head as to why I’d missed it originally before pondering a little closer as to why it had failed to make the necessary impact. That it’s a new release suggests its authors have either just been thawed from some cryogenic state or more pertinently, as is the proven case, have a more than adept knack where the crafting of an authentic sounding vintage is concerned. This, folks is Brie with a full length set ‘brie brie’ just out through the admired kitchen leg imprint of Berlin, who across nine tracks engage in the kind of angularly sparse post punk edginess that might have you sniffing at your prized delta 5, au pairs, raincoats et al in favour of their edgy isolationist nag nag nag gouging – none more do they do it with such admirable aplomb than on the see sawing spidery sore thumb that is ‘hip hop’. Reference wise they emerge from the shadow of controller. controller’s more market friendly polished retroism preferring to eke out a scab forming edginess that skirts and scowls around the shadow playing virgin passages and to a lesser extent the much missed Quickspace – as exemplified on the kraut grooved ‘gehacktes’  – while math-ian detailing aside ‘nachtmilch’ is groomed in deliciously distressed opines whose head cutting atmospherics chillingly chime to the sound of lost Bauhaus flip sides. All said we here are more than a little fond of parting salvo ‘screambo’ a psychosis seeped slab of bad boogie blistered with blood curdling screams and charmed with the kind of dark hearted venom that imagines the more fracturing and deathly quiet groans of the Birthday Party’s ‘junkyard’ being revisited upon by Katastrophy Wife.

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