Sir Richard Bishop plays in the same ebbs and flows of the guy in the seat in front of me's sleep breaths, when the drums kick in I think they might wake him; The Residents version of Paint It Black sounds miles better if you imagine it hummed in the head of the woman reading the Jodi Picoult novel, especially if you imagine that, at the last beat, she's gonna go Purple-Assed Mandril Amok; Harvey Milk's comedy angst works well as you pass Newbury and realise you're not near half way; Mount Vernon Arts Lab's The Fog Detonator is exactly what you'd hear if you were watching televised coverage of a terrorist attack on this train; Spaceape sounds less good the further away from London you are; Johnny Cash doesn't work in the dark, even if he was The Man In Black; El-B's Amazon can, under certain conditions, give the distinct illusion that peoples' wrists are responsible for drum slaps; Earthmonkey always makes me think I'm in Rome, even if I'm actually just approaching Pewsey...
From The Wytch Machine...
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