Pitch right into these strange and lovely sounds, and you never know what you'll find.
Going for literal darkness as well as metaphorical, the stage is lit by a screen showing a Werner Herzog film. Only occasionally does Astor - accompanied by marginally more euphoric, air-punching accomplice Chris Summers - loom up to the microphone, giving the Undeath-In-Vegas pulsings a just-about-human touch. The nervy shuffle of 'Coney Island Of Your Mind' is 'Loaded' for the bedroom-bound; free to do what they want to do as long as it involves some heavy paranoia. The exotic percussive undertow of 'Woke Up Buzzing', meanwhile, hints at a deluxe range of thrilling Freudian nightmares.
Making sense of debris is The Wisdom Of Harry's precarious genius, and if the loops and angles of tracks like 'March Of The Otaku' initially appear little more than abstract shatter-patterns, they soon solidify. Pitch right into these strange and lovely sounds, and you never know what you'll find. It might just be priceless.
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