Neurot Recordings
MIRRORS FOR PSYCHIC WARFARE - I See What I Became LP (colour vinyl)
$41.95
Includes download code.
Limited edition white vinyl.
Insert with lyrics.
It’s been three rough years since Mirrors For Psychic Warfare sprang into existence with their startling self-titled debut, but don’t think for a second that the time was spent idle, this unit (comprised of Neurosis’ Scott Kelly and producer Sanford Parker) constructed an even more unnerving and destructive record with I See What I Became, hard as it is to believe. Over the course of these eight bile-rich pieces a sonic abattoir is erected, exploited, and razed. Turbulence rises and churns giving way to rhythmic machinations, lights flicker, a grand mal / guignol seizure besets a frog-headed snitch, blood collects in a stainless steel gutter. Claustrophobic sudor that evokes all one holds dear from Skinny Puppy, Foetus, Godflesh, bath tub tina, and wondering where to sleep, provided one can. There’s nothing fun here, nothing but the cold of an autopsy followed by the heat of a crematorium. A sliver of galvanized bone flies from a circular saw into the toothless maw of a streetwalking Kali Yuga.
Limited edition white vinyl.
Insert with lyrics.
It’s been three rough years since Mirrors For Psychic Warfare sprang into existence with their startling self-titled debut, but don’t think for a second that the time was spent idle, this unit (comprised of Neurosis’ Scott Kelly and producer Sanford Parker) constructed an even more unnerving and destructive record with I See What I Became, hard as it is to believe. Over the course of these eight bile-rich pieces a sonic abattoir is erected, exploited, and razed. Turbulence rises and churns giving way to rhythmic machinations, lights flicker, a grand mal / guignol seizure besets a frog-headed snitch, blood collects in a stainless steel gutter. Claustrophobic sudor that evokes all one holds dear from Skinny Puppy, Foetus, Godflesh, bath tub tina, and wondering where to sleep, provided one can. There’s nothing fun here, nothing but the cold of an autopsy followed by the heat of a crematorium. A sliver of galvanized bone flies from a circular saw into the toothless maw of a streetwalking Kali Yuga.
