Are these the sounds found flashing in the midst of the malestrom of pain making up a magnificent, world-splitting Godhead migraine? Stoned-broken warped workyard anthems mutilated in the invisible workings of some sick-spirited, spoilt victorian ghost industrial mechanism? Troubled tribal transmissions from the fried pirate satellite of nightmare.am – your first and only for top forty far-out, fearful and fucked-with filth and brain-damaging beauty? Perhaps, but we keep waking up sweat swimming and terrified before elusive cracked melody merchant Caste gets close enough to touch and so plunder on in the realm of guesswork most vague for now we must:

Caste – Espers And Fever