Angel Marcloid's first album for the wonderfully weird Chicago-based label Hausu Mountain is a cathartic nightmare of tortured screaming, self-lacerating lyrics, broken electro-industrial beats, evil Muzak textures, and AOL chat notification sounds. Basically, it's like a face-painted goth club remix of James Ferraro's Far Side Virtual, or Watabou gone vaporwave. It's filled with very discordant screaming and noisy bursts juxtaposed with queasy smooth jazz and new age bits (there's even a Kenny G-like sax at some points). It's not uncommon for spoken word passages to erupt into shrieking, and the lyrics are utterly ridiculous and confrontational. The most relaxing track on the album is "Spirit Spit [Codename_Control Center]," which consists of a minute-and-a-half of meows, modem squeals, "You've got mail," furious typing, and rumbling storm clouds. "To See My Hatred Clearly [Codename_Touch Accommodations]" starts out as a racing hi-NRG new wave song then dissolves into a sea of saxophones and screaming. The album's final two tracks are longer and move more slowly, but they're still busy and quite hair-raising. "? [Codename_Auto-Brightness]" is somewhat more blissful and borders on chillwave, and at one point there's a reference to Ghost Town DJs' '90s R&B hit "My Boo." This album will make you fear technology, society, drugs, and most of all, the wretched demons cursing your soul.
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AllMusic Review by Paul Simpson