Christopher Catterall, Stephen Cole and Gareth Wyn Jones

not really sure what’s going on here, but I’m pretty certain that repeat listens can’t be too healthy. This is, what’s probably best described as, a head wiring and mind imploding slab of incendiary improv which was greeted or more so, cautiously shoved across the face book messenger service, with a short note nonchalantly enquiring ‘do you wanna hear some noise?’ Really, course we did, I mean do bear’s deposit in woods. We suspect this features members of the APATT community, by Christopher Catterall, Stephen Cole and Gareth Wyn Jones this is ‘120 days’ – a 23 minute freak storm that manages to shoehorn in some many references into its demented caustic collage, that we fear our head won’t cease spinning until the weekend at least. Clearly both This Heat and Henry Cow veer into their sphere of influence, as does Albert Ayler. Squirrelling scabbed jazz contortions performed at obtuse angles fly, fracture and fizz from the calamitous carnage storm welling within, certainly something that the folk over at Wire will all gather around, nodding in unison their approval while collectively performing a group chin stroke, followed by a raffle to decide which lucky soul will commit to writing an appraisal, special commendations being made to making it as indecipherable to the most seasoned campaigners of the Times cryptic. Seriously though, this skull compressing nugget should find favour and fondness heading out in abundance from the folk at Foolproof Projects in Brighton, whiffs of Andy Pyne’s jazz gored deconstructions are apparent at every turn as is recall of the those early Volcano the Bear happenings along with Zorn and most surprisingly, Miles Davis, the latter though only briefly, not least in the momentary pauses where they struggle to catch their breath. Add in to the uncompromising mix the tethered and trash gouged tailoring of riff scowling shreds of savagely primal Earache meets Brew records grind and what you have is an ear wax sonic sand blasting, the likes of which, we’ve not heard around here, since the days of the Polvo and Freed Unit colluding Inside Ov a Butchers Shop set destroyed our turntable.   

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