Norscq

A more pastiche-driven morass of Eurotrash/musique concrète psychedelia has never been visited on human ears. This is the music that would be played at Mike Patton's wedding, if he became a transgendered French romance writer addicted to absinthe and spaghetti westerns. Think I'm overdoing it? I'm not. This CD is a giddy train wreck of chugging Morricone guitar grooves, English drunks spouting pinhead aggro rants, moments of high-end electro-acoustic interventions and Eurobeats, all under the umbrella of a decidedly Fin de siècle cabaret ambience. In confronting such a full-on cinematic assault of lowbrow/highbrow audio, you kind of have to give up and just bear witness.