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The pandemic leads to reflecting on the uselessness of humans in the face of the forces that govern the globe, the universe, and existence. The only thing man manages to produce is garbage: of things, sounds, and messages, a whirlwind of slimy crap shoved down our throats, forming a lump that reminds us of the emptiness of our existence.
The concurrence of random and specific factors that have gifted and damned us up to the apocalypse, total annihilation, the extinction of shame. Theocratic madness and the distinction between rich and poor: the true failure of reason and intellect. What is existence without eternity? What do you want to leave behind if what you trouble yourself to produce will vanish, sooner or later, consumed by the cosmos? Guernica turned rock.
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Other reviews
By Stoopid
"Twin Infinitives is a cubist masterpiece, one of the most dazzling viewpoints in the short history of electric music."
"They really loved rock, Neil and Jennifer, and created a fertile humus for the years to come."
By SyrMerr
"Twin Infinitives, or how to destroy 40 years of rock music in just over an hour."
"After listening to it, anything, even the noise of the fridge at night... will seem like Beethoven symphonies in comparison."
By fuggitivo
Twin Infinitives is not just noise; you can discern much of the old Exile on Main St., cubism, and their deformed and sick psychedelia.
If you go with a magnifying glass there’s something rational and it hides a huge treasure.
By Caspasian
Anarchic-individualist underground transcendence: "no ass today."
They invite without trying, without empathy, just to be together sitting on the carpet mystifying musical images in a thought form, a pure dialogue.
