02 December 2014


It kinda sounds like a twenty minute prolonged explosion contorted into a musical piece. After awkward waves of false starts, 777 builds for minutes upon minutes, a digital rumbling from beneath the surface. And then the build starts to swell, climaxing at the midway point with waves of redlined debris and a few seconds of terrifying screams. And then the process examines itself in the mirror, disintegrating for more minutes upon minutes until the churning is distant, no longer threatening. There's a hint of a return near the close of the piece, a hint that is nothing more than a woeful sigh.

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