Still maniacal, noisy, strange. Still packed with alien loops, wobbles, moans. Still strangely catchy despite it all, this is pop sent to an alien dimension, mirrored back, and dilligently packed back into pop forms, with that drip and sag and dredge of the unknown baked into the deepest seams.
This is perhaps the man's most fascinating, complex record - less astral bubblegum, more Cthulu lap-pop.
Maybe I've just been reading too much Southern Reach
3.5/5
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