Although mostly indiscernible, the lyrics are included in the artwork and are bleak and borderline suicidal.
It builds nicely into the collection's first 'proper' song, Home On The Wave, an exercise in painting a pop song using all the aforementioned, almost incidental instrumentation. The vocals are still buried, but a driving drum track and clearly defined chord progressions are definitive pointers to the song hidden within. You Don't Need Muscles To Get Love is a little more obvious again, with the ambient overtones played down to create some background texture rather than to completely distract you. At other points, the distance between an aural massage and pop songs is much shorter, Coasting and Sex In The Cinema examples of where the two ideas meet perfectly somewhere in the middle.
The album's closer, Euphoria, is a 20-minute space jam of keyboards and synths, and the only major sonic deviation overall. It's a piece unto itself, and gives the album something different to remember it by. Although mostly indiscernible, the lyrics are included in the artwork and are bleak and borderline suicidal. A perfect contrast to the ecstasy of the sounds that shroud them.
This week new sets drop from Thy Art Is Murder, Refused, Batpiss and more.