One of the first thoughts during the initial spin was “McDonas at his most Cecil Taylor-esque”, therefore I was happy to read about the same reference at the very beginning of David Keenan’s liners. It’s called “solidarity among writers”. The pianist provides mercurial harmonic shifts, autistic ostinatos and characteristically uncomfortable digital activity as per the norm: still, he occasionally stops (the others do so, too…) and contemplates the past or – ironically - quotes popular styles despite the fact that there is havoc around. The sound of Skloff’s valve-augmented groans puts its box’s timbre in an alley situated halfway through William Parker Drive and Jack Bruce Street, the unquestioning enthusiasm and raging cantankerousness of Niekrasz furnishing the music with a supplementary dose of fickleness that, on the other hand, makes the sonic mass appear even more unyielding. When the boys decide to go pedal-to-the-metal, they reveal themselves to be punker than me (…than Sid Vicious for sure). Great record: play loud, put up the shutters, get wall-knocked by the neighbours, crash your car against a barrier if you are stupid enough to listen to this while driving. Keep living.