Review: After his last appearance on Tri Angle, FIS is back with more of that wild style production that finds beat productions harried and hassled into fragmented pieces with a heavy malaise hanging over the rhythmic mulch. The strings are the star of the show really, lending a theatrical ballast to the slippery percussion as it attempts (and largely fails) to dodge the kind of processing that could strip paint. There are tense, militaristic moments as on "Womb Dreams", and even wilder industrial noise workouts for the end of days, such as "Fever Sweats". Even through all of the clamouring noise the soul breaks through, as felt in the mystical synth tones that linger behind the front row action.
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