"He's in a Floyd hole!" Dr Venture yelps circa season 3, finding Hank passed out, limbs hung slack over a sea of classic prog sleeves.
Fuck Pink Floyd though, you want to talk about music that you can overdose on, this is it. Bass brings the metal backbone, guitar washes, swirling solos, and sax squalls make for a cosmic soup with looping sharks; tracking one lets the others in the back door and you're gone. It borders on ridiculous with its operatic exhalations of cosmic insignificance and the perils of sonic attack, but if you're looking to really prog out, to really go hard with both hands behind your back, this is the shit 4/5
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