Two representatives from “down-under” throw-down two gauzy alluviums with the faint proclivity for rock and roll metaphors and grungy stereo-shit aesthetics. side one sees armpit-related messiah dialation in the form of freak-punk anus tsunami Futurians. These boys play like its 1999 upside-down and seething down the mind-catheter. Definitely the scuzz you’ve come to expect from such an operation with the added pixalation of crappy recording technology and other factors. Side two finds the bloated carrion of jam-band estimation, Falcoxi, replete with panty-hose used as both the means of asphiziation and a rug-fuel truncheon. Here Veet and his faction of wank minstrels teem with whatever antonyms you can muster for lucid. With art by the Futurians spattered with NZ insinuations and a retrograde demeanour.