Not a thing but reflections deforming matter to mind. Resembling such perfect constructions of such an imperfect – reality – is all that is missing. Progressing decay, advancing regression as dusk became dawn. Stop the ears from bleeding their souls out. Fixed, abducted by false ambiguity. Their responses are answers to questions not asked. Haunted and lost, keep running away while this enigma of signs is corrupting the brain. Intimidated by the outcome to smell the scent of guilt within this blend of bourgeois incest. The insignificant gained significance, weren't they buried under layers of dust and concrete. As seclusion advances the lexicon grows. A maze of interceptions. Nothing is certain. Fractures of noises so incoherent, random selections used to force dependence. Electing the wicked conventions. The heritage of any meaning is left in a blind spot. […] Trapped in a cycle of blatant communication. The code defeats the messenger in a battle for common sense. All that you think to know is nothing you can trust. The only thing you really know: We'll all become dust. Infatuation is the concrete to our extinction.
Supplementing sasscore insanity with bolstered vocals and pop-punk songcraft, the California band are kicking ass and breaking boundaries. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 21, 2024