• birchville cat motel Birds Call Home Their Dead (CD, £13.25)

    label: Battlecruiser

    Gigantic. White-hot stars suddenly huff off their outer layers of gas and debris and collapse into their own gaping void of everlasting density and nothingness. Hammered into shape in the glowing furnace of their most recent European tour, these monolithic tracks are the closest Birchville Cat Motel has come to capturing the gargantuan shoegazing nirvana of their monstrous current live assault. A ritualistic, full frequency, bulldozing of superheated twitter and swirl, swimming in a turbulent undercurrent of molten, sub-metallized, dream-rrrock. A hurricane of sound singing the everlasting lullaby of the universe.

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