the moth poets

Words such as strange, odd and ominous tend to go hand in hand with the mere mention of Bearsuit Records much like say, fish and chips, bacon and egg and curry and rice – is it just me or is there are food theme sneaking in here, subliminal messaging telling me its near tea time I guess, bet you are hungry now. Anyhow Scotland’s most out-there patrons of abstract outsider pop – that’ll be Bearsuit records – see you are still obsessing about food and have forgotten what’s really important here. Where were we – ah yes Bearsuit records have unveiled a curio that’s pencilled in for turntable weirdness sometime next year with the news, or should that be the threat, of a newly forged platter from the Moth Poets. This is the uber chilling ‘ham’s fall’ sounding like the onset of a last day’s apocalyptic occurrence, all at once stilled, petrified and foreboding, the whirring monochromatic pulsar shimmer tones exacting a sense of grim grinning deathliness and doom dripped unearthliness.  

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