Parties Are Best Kept For The Unimaginable Wastelands Of Infinity

by Strangers From Birth

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05:13

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"I need more bass!" Mass screamed as the room rocked. Lasers shrieked through the thick, smoke choked air, slicing through the wall of gelatinous alien bodies that bore down on the dance floor.
"Where's that snare?" Ossian cuts the midrange and throws a strobe grenade into their midst. Lives burst like boils, vapour gags and tears at the senses, jellied limbs flail and fail. Hi-hats pepper the scene, analogue bubbles randomly form and pop, ripping at the senses.
Something has made it past the bouncers, over the metal fences, a tentacle thrashes dangerously close, rips a hole in the speaker.
Nubalees grabs a keytar and within seconds has scaled the speaker stack and is soloing indiscriminately into the crowd. He pumps the pitchbend and leans into the screams.
Silence descends on the stage. Strangers From Birth stand, back to back. Mass scans the devastation , his hand firmly on the tom-fill button, wary of an encore.

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released July 16, 2011

Written by Mass Roman and Ossian Ritchie

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Strangers From Birth Brighton, UK

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