
Four tracks of raw, unpolished post-punk. Jagged guitars, driving basslines, and a shadowy baritone captured in their earliest, most atmospheric form.
This is Interpol before they got famous and polished, sounding raw, dark, and incredibly cool in a wet basement.
A cold, damp, and nocturnal tension that feels intimate yet completely detached.
The production is built around lo fi than this artist usually allows.
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