sloath: sloath (riot season)

sweet lysergic lord this shit is heavier than pig champion’s coffin. three tracks of tectonic plate shift articulated by ten legs of teetering thuggery. pushers of death-row inertia, of death-rattle anticipation. feels like the fear of falling, of collapse. let’s call it glacially paced, ponderous; rewarding patience with a warm bongwater bath; rewarding patience with zen frottage, rubbing gently, teasing. no rush, no race, no finish. just a continuum of juddering hypno-heaviness that moves me to a state beyond bliss, beyond beyond. a mesmeric thrall of repeato-riff, five chord progression. a relentless electric march into the viscous tar-black core of doom. primitive. elemental. unfurling and unfolding in skullshuddering sprawl. a relentless slo-mo binary vocal fug and percussive thud. a narcotic heart thumping in beat with theta waves of loping low-end buzz, synchronous with thick bloody blood through veins and arteries glooping right to my pleasure points. you’d do well to immerse yrself in this blackpsych ooze, this molasses morass of vibratory om. i’m waving. and drowning.

riot season

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