DECEIT

In the dank depths of an old, abandoned cold storage room in punk and Thatcher era Brixton, a band who cared not for the mantra of the English punks - that prog = bad - once again blended RIO and post-punk into a lost treasure of both genres. Their theme: nuclear war. From what is remembered as a bleak and dour time, we hear the band's own mantra - sleep sleep sleep go to sleep - before our three genius madmen guide us forcefully by the arm through visions of a nuclear wasteland, the first album's semi-ruins bombed to oblivion, dragging us past unspeakable horrors with their freakish but masterful music. What little hints of new wave and pure krautrock they once had vanish, with a pure mix of what everyone at the time thought were mortal and permanent enemies of music triumphing, and cackling at their folly. The guitar on this record is perfect for the themes, moods, and styles the band exhibits; it is just unstoppable. The keys and tapes round out the main sound, and ensure that the album feels like armageddon and its aftermath. The drums stick out as well, and a lot of the time it feels as high in the mix as "Tago Mago"'s kick drums were... a doubly wonderful inspiration. Even with the krautrock musical influences gone, the band must've had Can's opus, their own crazed rumination on the mushroom head, on the mind when they made this, now far away from the era of detente Can played from. The lyrics are perfect for the political points the band wanted to be sure to hammer, and meld with the music. Everything, then, is just right. A masterpiece of pronk, this is a chilling journey from a band who looked on with fellow billions over the precipice of midnight.