There’s something decadently remote and isolationist about ‘liability’, the latest sortie to whirr its way into our psyche from Fufanu, its ice chilled stare and cold war minimalism imparts a curiously oblique art groove dialect that echoes and pulsates  to an era whose the  undergrounds sonic tongue was populated by the likes of Devo and the Flying Lizards, yet scratch beneath the cool subliminal buzz and something of a relic and a vintage from a forgotten age prowls through the electrical surveillance surge of the hypnotic analogue ether that imagines a top secret lost studio head to head gathering between Magazine and some mysterious emissary’s from Dusseldorf.  

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