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4 out of 10
Someone said recently that the film Human Centipede could not be judged as other films could. This album is not far off; doom-laden atmospherics, white noise, industrial clanking as of being inside a slow-moving washing machine, distant strings, lo-fi piano and what sounds like sewage trying to escape the plumbing under Satan's second-best bathroom. The unaccountable air of claustrophobic menace and despair is focused around some choice samples - take the first track, where we hear some of the recording made at Jonestown. Others are hard to make out but are probably serial killers, or their victims. If you want to hear the sound of a deranged robot tuning into the depths of human depravity and despair, fill your boots. Just don't tell me about it.
Listen: www.myspace.com/seasonspredin
Tracklist:
Eight tracks, no titles
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