I was immediately drawn to the tuneless and abrasive churn, reminding me of instantly of primitive organic noise mongers. I can't really imagine that early industrialists cared if a single second of their sounds were deemed "digestible," and I see Detroit's SLAYMAKER WELDING in the same light Rhythmic, distorted, atonal, mournful in its repetition, twenty minutes of monotony that will make you feel trapped and, if played at the appropriate volume, paralyzed.
Treat yourself here, you're worth it.
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