AKA Greta Buitkute.
Spoken word, spoken screech, spoken rattle - ripped off, ripped apart and re-assembled in undulating collision of blissful disorientation. Rhythms may come and rhythms may go, but we'll always have Pott Shriggley as they say up our end.
Messages from beyond creeping through the shattered wireless - engage your fifth eye and relax into the madness for once in your sodding lyf.
C30 with "wood chip" artwork. All in all, a bloody good tape (and that's swearing).