Mathematics Et Cetera: a bittersweet, multi-colored wash, jumping from the ghostly lullabies of shape shifters, to jazzy transmissions from the cold recesses of space, to midnight stampedes of runaway trains, nailing your feet to the floor and gluing your eyeballs to the stage. Guitars that buzz like chainsaws, piercing synth and noise, a rhythm section that boils in your blood, and vocals that cry and coo, and haunt the tip of your tongue.
J.R. Boyce
