More kraut racket for your worn out ears but this time with legs. This collective contain members of Part Chimp, Mugstar, Dethscalator and Earth and this is a brazen and rackety take on the Suicide/Silver Apples blueprint with squawking sax added for extra discordance and gruesome churning vocals that recall Gallon Drunk. You are going to hate it....or it could just be your favourite record of the year. Hold tight!
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Looks pretty gross. Sounds pretty gross. Is… pretty gross? Sex Swing hurl their hodgepodge of brassy puss drones around the place like a disgruntled La Monte Young denied a treat, creating a terse, warbling but unwavering sound that eventually gives way to a free percussive summit and a restrained rhythm that sounds something like a doomified Silver Apples -- makes sense when you consider that members of Mugstar and Earth and Part Chimp are in the mix, naysaying and end-time predicting over a rather catchy bass/drum groove.
Flip it and the stoned out fearmongering continues over three tracks of tunes that sound kinda like someone vomited doom metal over kosmische -- the vocals are both booming and silly, and they play out over sustained keys and gloomy low end that suggest different directions nobody really has a right putting together. Except these guys. If you like a bit of skronk amidst proper song structure, their tenor fuckery will appeal to you as it gets dragged into the otherwise rather hooking “Nighttime Worker”, which sounds like it could appear on the drunk version of Portishead’s ‘Third’. I’m sure you’ll like this, for one reason or another.
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