Waves of Greek moaning / lute set to rumbling, rock-adjacent drums. The sound churns and turns around itself, and when it keeps momentum it's mysterious, exciting, and damn near dancable.
But when Xylouris White turns to post-rock drone-dump, they're borderline unlistenable. The muttering and meandering offers nothing that transcends language and the non-Greek-speaker's left in the cold. Greek-speakers, your mileage may vary 2.5/5
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