Imagine a post-apocalyptic world where bleak is the new normal. Foggy visions in a frozen landscape chase each other like so many icicles lined up in a row.
This sounds as oxymoronic as the band moniker Sun After Dark. And perhaps they should have called their outfit simply ‘Night’ or something. But the metaphor perfectly describes what went through the RMR crew’s mutual minds when listening to the piece.
So, meet Tatkraft1 and let its garbled waffling baffle your inner self. But stow these pills firmly away first. This whole chebang already sounds like substance abuse in sound
