666

This split is bad. Literally. Jesus himself fails to feel any sort of Schadenfreude, and instead goes through a serious case of another emotional loan word, myötähäpeä, which awkwardly translates to "second-hand embarrassment". It is BAD.

Ctanic's side of the split consists of four short tracks with machine drums that could well be from a bedroom cybergrind album in their lethally boring clicky monotony; no living drummer would want to play anything like this. Most of the time, the guitar plays... something... remotely resembling riffs in the distance, but gets buried by the crappy production. The vocals are very, very grumpy moans, shrieks, sounds of hurling vomit, and sighs, mixed as several layers and with effects that consist of distortion and static, never meant to make any sense. And then there are the samples, mostly of someone saying "Jesus fucks you" repeatedly. The whole is a bit over seven minutes of pure unapologizing crap.

Kroll's half is not any better. While the production is better, it only serves to show the weird gap between the background cosisting of programmed drums, weirdly detached and wobbly "guitar" riffs most likely played on a frequency-sorted and arranged series of vibrators, judging by the lack of power, tune, and balls... Until the second to the last track, when the guitar sound suddenly turns into 1980's synth version of someone buzzsawing through a stack of Linoleum. And yeah, the instruments have nothing to do with the vocals, or sometimes not even with each other.

And indeed, the worst offense comes with the vocals: Donald Duck is stuck in 1960's Romania, on an analogue phone line that goes through the local department of internal security and picks up reverb and distortion on the way through the wiretapping security officer's Bakelite headphones. And BOY, Uncle Donnie sure is pissed off! The recipient listens to it through a 1954 Blaupunkt car stereo system with a few leaky vacuum tubes and a diaphragm made of good quality toilet paper, and the transmission gets further distortion in the time vortex it has to squeeze through to reach our era. The cartoon hero spews forth obvious hatred, and either promises to have sex with a goat or blames his three rascal nephews for doing it, but the motivation and the actual message are lost in the process.

Both halves of this split are painful and embarrassing to hear. They are a balanced package in the sense that the styles are similar, and mostly centered on having some token background music for over-processed vocals that make no sense. There might be some evidence of enthusiasm for the shrieking and gargling, at least. But balance is a secondary consideration, if the products themselves are utter crap. There's nothing to enjoy here, on any level, and even the metalness of the release could be questioned for the lack of clear riffs in the holed wall of noise.

Amateurish, intentionally crappy, stereotypical bedroom stuff, and totally void of any value or meaning. The whole undertaking was unnecessary, and it's a better waste of time to stay home and stick needless in the general area of you pancreas while watching Bridget Jones and soaking your feet in a tub of lukewarm buttermilk. Go to moderate lenghts and effort to avoid this.