if you ever wondered what an einstürzende neubauten score for john carpenter’s prince of darkness would sound like then prepare for dream to plough pornographically into reality. unsettling creeping silence mirrorsmashed by jagged lumps of n.u. unruh-ish industrial junk clatter. ugly hiss. steam valve klank. garbled messages. future warnings. exorcisms. yes! we’re in the navidson house, teetering on the threshold of unthinkable emptiness, the echo of existential terror, the creak of despair and voice and noise dwarfed by the void. the timeless, distant roar of yog sothoth carried vague through the dark. the devil’s in the details. there are no details. interstitial spaces in scrapyard experiments. migraine scrape triggers ambiguous nerve responses. the quiet, oh the quiet. small noise made huge. swelling throbs and gobs of brittle conflict. great rents torn in the blanketing tension by needling reeds. then contraction. just the wet, panicked silence and the claws of nameless breath on yr neck again…

echo beds

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