Four tracks of drifting malevolent electronics grind slowly down the hall as heavy doors slam and crowbars crash on concrete. Ghosts stumble through hissing steam, muffled electronics pulse from several floors up, intermittent rhythms break through the shadows before returning to the thick fog. Blacker than a landlord’s soul.

"Industrial strength bad-vibes from JT Whitfield. The synthetic murk and tangled ectoplasm which Whitfield dubbed out on the previous cassette continue here with the heavily thumped rhythms swapped for more of a ritualized, nocturnal set. At times, this has the feel of clandestine happenings by denizens of a subterranean community who have constructed dank hymns and electric chorales in the only cathedrals they ever knew - sewers, drain pipes, and cisterns. Much more akin to Lustmord's Heresy or Paradise Disowned, as a result, and excellent" (Aquarius). 31 mins. Ltd x 300 copies.