Sickboy

The tradition of combining perversity and playfulness into a true soundclash has never left post-modern music alone, acting as culture vultures ramping their way through carcasses of crispy produced megabits to vigour sampling of smirky headlines. Sickboy has more than upped the ante with this hairsplitting slab of digitized breakestral chaos, never suggesting melodies or functional rhythms it draws from but juggling without remorse on the dividing line between acceptability and grimy flavoured cynism. Crucially it's not the neglect of human consciousness, it 's the utter impulsive sheer excitement that blends in with a deliberate throwback of mostorted needle-sharping. Imagine a dedicated Manowar maniac with the 'wimps & posers leave the hall' principle, incarnated in a sparkling aural torturous display of mashed-up breakbeat galore. Gonna clear rooms quicker than a megaton fire alert with music that'll stir up any godforsaken industrial pigeonhole with a whirlwind...