Loachfillet dwells on the lakebed of a lifelong musical vision where analogue synth, beaten bass, tape loops and aging electronics pour forth sound too crushingly deep to escape. From a funneling eddy at the start of track one, down you go, descending his bubble column to a booming bass guitar
wreck shimmering with algae. You plunge deeper still, down ten expansive tracks to the finale, titled Hell, with waves so heavy they'd buckle prettier heads. You’re here to stay, lungs full at last.
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