Big Black
Headache

THE REVIEW

Applying oneself to an instrument like a worker with his manufacturing machinery, and certainly not of dreams.

Glimpses of degradation enamored with looting. The misfit is not kidding at all this time. He mingles with the clubbing crowd, losing hope of enriching his own design. But our merchant of emptiness has a great spirit of adaptation. Compromising with the limit of survival is always stimulating in the end.

When one is aware of not dealing with easily shareable territories, one must disguise oneself with joyful facial stretches. Movements that extend those two pink moons where phonemes sometimes carelessly emerge.

"Death Disco" naturalizes the mind of bully Albini.

"Grinder" is the classic fast-paced track, a harbinger of some elements of Shellac's "At Action Park". A cage without gaps. Brain deteriorations and tired neurons.

"Ready Men" is a run above a railway track, but below there are no nurturing rails. Do not exaggerate. The marriage of a desperate verb with the best saturation of the pickup. There is only emptiness, not fire.

The perfect outfit to hate the worldly prudence of a long life is "Pete, King Of The Detectives". Nothing can be defined, linear, or probed.

John Donne and the negative conception: everything that can be asserted and deciphered is not part of universality. God is what He is not.

Not the fire!