Ink

Like an intercepted radio transmission come the words that accompany Ink's musical mis-directions. From one side, barely discernible mutterings, declaring a state of the union or a state of confusion; from the other, monotone sing-song chants and choruses ebb and flow over an agit-prop musical morass. It's an exercise in listening prowess, trying to catch everything that's going on at once, but it's well worth the effort on this, Ink's self-titled debut. Deliberate bass notes set the tone, but horn squeals, loud snare hits and a general state of unease provide the colour. Despite its obviously well-thought out construction, Ink maintains a sense of spontaneity; there's so much going on, this is a record that continues to surprise even after repeated listening.