Some People Really Know How To Live
Craig Clouse aka $+$ offers another dirty protest against dancefloor convention with his 18th album of gut rot grooves and noise, Some People Really Know How To Live, landing on the indomitable Editions Mego.
As you’d hope for, this is some severely messed up sh*t, but certainly not without its very own aerobic potential, forcing the funk from every clogged up pore and orifice between the keening torque of Behind You Back and the recursive knots of The Crocodile with a possessed grip that really doesn’t know when to let up.
Highlights are pebble-dashed across the thing like a busy W.C., especially in the gypsy-traveller call-out clash of Lil Wannabe Gangsta and the V/Vm-esque dance-pop offal of Girl Close Your Eyes, and coming on strong in the prolapsed techno of Raining Horses or South Padre Low Life and the Rubik’s Cube tessellations of Notified.
It’s proper bobby dazzler, this one.
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Craig Clouse aka $+$ offers another dirty protest against dancefloor convention with his 18th album of gut rot grooves and noise, Some People Really Know How To Live, landing on the indomitable Editions Mego.
As you’d hope for, this is some severely messed up sh*t, but certainly not without its very own aerobic potential, forcing the funk from every clogged up pore and orifice between the keening torque of Behind You Back and the recursive knots of The Crocodile with a possessed grip that really doesn’t know when to let up.
Highlights are pebble-dashed across the thing like a busy W.C., especially in the gypsy-traveller call-out clash of Lil Wannabe Gangsta and the V/Vm-esque dance-pop offal of Girl Close Your Eyes, and coming on strong in the prolapsed techno of Raining Horses or South Padre Low Life and the Rubik’s Cube tessellations of Notified.
It’s proper bobby dazzler, this one.
Craig Clouse aka $+$ offers another dirty protest against dancefloor convention with his 18th album of gut rot grooves and noise, Some People Really Know How To Live, landing on the indomitable Editions Mego.
As you’d hope for, this is some severely messed up sh*t, but certainly not without its very own aerobic potential, forcing the funk from every clogged up pore and orifice between the keening torque of Behind You Back and the recursive knots of The Crocodile with a possessed grip that really doesn’t know when to let up.
Highlights are pebble-dashed across the thing like a busy W.C., especially in the gypsy-traveller call-out clash of Lil Wannabe Gangsta and the V/Vm-esque dance-pop offal of Girl Close Your Eyes, and coming on strong in the prolapsed techno of Raining Horses or South Padre Low Life and the Rubik’s Cube tessellations of Notified.
It’s proper bobby dazzler, this one.
Craig Clouse aka $+$ offers another dirty protest against dancefloor convention with his 18th album of gut rot grooves and noise, Some People Really Know How To Live, landing on the indomitable Editions Mego.
As you’d hope for, this is some severely messed up sh*t, but certainly not without its very own aerobic potential, forcing the funk from every clogged up pore and orifice between the keening torque of Behind You Back and the recursive knots of The Crocodile with a possessed grip that really doesn’t know when to let up.
Highlights are pebble-dashed across the thing like a busy W.C., especially in the gypsy-traveller call-out clash of Lil Wannabe Gangsta and the V/Vm-esque dance-pop offal of Girl Close Your Eyes, and coming on strong in the prolapsed techno of Raining Horses or South Padre Low Life and the Rubik’s Cube tessellations of Notified.
It’s proper bobby dazzler, this one.
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Craig Clouse aka $+$ offers another dirty protest against dancefloor convention with his 18th album of gut rot grooves and noise, Some People Really Know How To Live, landing on the indomitable Editions Mego.
As you’d hope for, this is some severely messed up sh*t, but certainly not without its very own aerobic potential, forcing the funk from every clogged up pore and orifice between the keening torque of Behind You Back and the recursive knots of The Crocodile with a possessed grip that really doesn’t know when to let up.
Highlights are pebble-dashed across the thing like a busy W.C., especially in the gypsy-traveller call-out clash of Lil Wannabe Gangsta and the V/Vm-esque dance-pop offal of Girl Close Your Eyes, and coming on strong in the prolapsed techno of Raining Horses or South Padre Low Life and the Rubik’s Cube tessellations of Notified.
It’s proper bobby dazzler, this one.