The End Of The World Championship – In Slow Motion I (Umor Rex)
Mother. Fucking. Drone. This is the real shit. Long form synth transcendence that’ll push your fucking skull straight through the fabric of space/time. Two sidelong pieces, absolutely humongous slabs of gritty bliss, heaving & waving layers filling in the wrinkles of your brain, a monotonous minimalism that I would bind to my goddamn bones and take with me wherever I went if I could, drones clipping in the red and glistening from the bottom of a well, boring down on every atom in your body until the negative space is non-existent and you’re lifted up to the next level of reality. So so fucking good, and yours for only $6.50 courtesy of the baddest dudes at Umor Rex.
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