Holy shit, everyone into drone and/or ambient gotta check this out. What an atmosphere, what an echo filled cave dedicated to the name of Monotony. I DARE say this is even more meditative than Om's grand prayers. But this is different. Where Om lifts you up on a high mountain in buddhistic nirvana and lets you gaze out all over the world, Slomo will not take you anywhere...well, maybe just a few feet down into the earth.
You press play, and the entire room turns into a huge botanic cave, where moist and steam makes love in the organic atmosphere. You're like a plant in full autoerotic fotosynthesis in golden, brilliant SUNNshine (with an O, and at least three right paranthesises behind). This mentioned stimulus is not a ten-minute sloppy wank. NO, this is a slow, determined and loving cycle; an hour of thundering and humming botanic foreplay and dirtytalk. This is Mother Earth's own version of a twelve British pound blowjob from a toothless Camden-whore; a huge steaming cloud of earth gases, feromones and oil steam.
Whether you're sitting there with a headset or huge speakers in your room, the music comes crawling like goddamn fucking cobwebs and smears itself all over the walls, the roof, the floor and your persian carpets. You're trapped in a narcotic cocoon of sound waves and bass frequencies. This is the soundtrack to the slow rotting of a bunch of Greenpeace members under the soft crust of the earth, while plants and weeds break out of their ironic cadavers. Does not matter if you are here to "save the planet" or chop down all its trees, it won't matter fuck all; Slomo will get you in the end.
I feel intensely like cursing and swearing loud and frenetic in a multitude of our spoken languages, but only to open my mouth will be nothing less than a fucking disgrace to everything this album is.
Cool cover, yes? bO)))tanic
http://soundsofslomo.com/
You press play, and the entire room turns into a huge botanic cave, where moist and steam makes love in the organic atmosphere. You're like a plant in full autoerotic fotosynthesis in golden, brilliant SUNNshine (with an O, and at least three right paranthesises behind). This mentioned stimulus is not a ten-minute sloppy wank. NO, this is a slow, determined and loving cycle; an hour of thundering and humming botanic foreplay and dirtytalk. This is Mother Earth's own version of a twelve British pound blowjob from a toothless Camden-whore; a huge steaming cloud of earth gases, feromones and oil steam.
Whether you're sitting there with a headset or huge speakers in your room, the music comes crawling like goddamn fucking cobwebs and smears itself all over the walls, the roof, the floor and your persian carpets. You're trapped in a narcotic cocoon of sound waves and bass frequencies. This is the soundtrack to the slow rotting of a bunch of Greenpeace members under the soft crust of the earth, while plants and weeds break out of their ironic cadavers. Does not matter if you are here to "save the planet" or chop down all its trees, it won't matter fuck all; Slomo will get you in the end.
I feel intensely like cursing and swearing loud and frenetic in a multitude of our spoken languages, but only to open my mouth will be nothing less than a fucking disgrace to everything this album is.
Cool cover, yes? bO)))tanic
http://soundsofslomo.com/
Singstar Grindcore
