It probably makes perfect sense in context
With their adherence to cult-ish costumes and interpretive dance, LA’s [a]We Are The World[/a] have been making their name with their live shows. Stripped of the visual element, however, [b]‘Clay Stones’[/b] is a difficult pill to swallow. It plays like a devilish temper tantrum, where throbbing synths are overlaid with shocks of percussion, and the vocals of Megan Gold morph from possessed baptist minister to voodoo queen. In fact if you’ve ever imagined what a crack comedown in a cold basement in Berlin sounds like, this is probably it. There’s more hardness than beauty here, but at the same time much to admire.